Man is Evil, Man is Good
by xmaspterodactyl
Summary: Annie's Halloween story wasn't completely made up. There was just more of a twist than anyone realized.
1. Chapter 1a

Primary Alert: I'm bound to make some people angry, uncomfortable, or just plain hate me for this story. I'll leave author's notes at the end of chapters where they seem relevant. In my defense, I'm not here to offend, I'm just here to tell a story that I thought was interesting. Thanks. –The Management.

Secondary Alert: Implied situations and bad things here in this story. It's rated M for a reason kiddies.

Tertiary Alert: Obviously, this is fan-fiction, obviously, this is AU, and obviously, I don't own Community or the characters involved. So let's just use common sense.

* * *

**Chapter 1 Part 1**

**_The Past_**

Her husband, her one true love, was dead. His body was now a charred husk of blackened flesh and exposed bone, which had been hung from a tree in the village square. His crime had been petty treason, his assaulting of a superior officer who was pillaging a village for his own gain. The punishment had been altered from the usual discipline of flogging to a harsher sentence of burning at the stake. She pleaded with the officials of her village to let him live, offering anything she could, including her very body. It was useless in the end, despite being beaten, abused, and thrown away with no reprieve for him. And after many of the unsuccessful pleas for mercy, she would rub her skin raw trying to cleanse herself from the shame she felt. She felt dirty and impure, having betrayed the love of her husband in the attempts to garner his release from an ugly demise.

The corrupt officials had watched her cry tears of pain during the preparations, laughing at her plight, uncaring of what they'd done to her. Watching the flames consume her love, she screamed and flailed against the crowd who held her back from throwing herself into the fire out of anguish. She heard his cries and smelled his flesh roasting in the roaring bonfire as he struggled to escape his immolation.

By the end, when the villagers and soldiers and politicians had spat on his corpse, it was hung from the tree in the middle of the village as reminder to respect one's betters; and she had collapsed to her knees in a sobbing mess. She stayed there for hours, further degraded by the inhabitants of the community she once was a respected member of. And the lovely wife, who was now a shell of her former self, was banished the town with only the now ragged clothes she wore torn by the mocking crowd.

On that day when alone in the forest, running for her life, she swore revenge; they would pay. All of the village would pay.

* * *

**_The Present_**

Jeff Winger had, over the last several hours, analyzed Annie Edison's story fourteen different ways and still couldn't process the rather descriptive twist ending. The maiden, fair and mysterious; the vampire, cruel yet conflicted. The monster's end had been rather disturbing. And he was discovering that there was more than meets the eye to Annie. There was either a sexual deviant or a psychotic lunatic behind the blue eyes, the pencil skirts, and driven personality; because there was no way that she was the lone, sane individual that the test results had come back with.

The party had ended earlier with Pierce snoring on the couch next to a sulking Britta, who was still going through her psychology notes after the rescoring and reexamination. Troy and Abed were at the main party, showing off their costumes to some disinterested co-eds. And Shirley had left before the official party, heading home to hand out the remainder of the candy to trick-or-treaters.

His plans for the evening had been making appearances at two more Halloween parties, but Greendale once again sucked him in. Ted, his former employer, had already been called with a promise to join the firms Christmas Party. So tonight, after heavy contemplation of her tale he was discreetly following her out to their respective vehicles.

"You're following me." She'd somehow appeared behind him, having been in front of him one minute, and vanishing in the second. In his continued deliberations, he'd unknowingly lost track of the brunette.

"I was walking this way to the parking lot. Hardly a case of stalking ki…yi...nd lady." He recovered as quickly as he could.

"Whatever you say Jeff." She strode passed him, rolling her eyes and flashing an enigmatic smile, her shampoo's fragrance wafting past him. Jeff followed from a ways back, giving her her space, and still trying to get a read on her. _And her backside isn't so bad. She's definitely the hot schoolgirl again._

His dream that night mimicked the story she told earlier that night. Britta even made a guest appearance, bite marks scattered all over her body from two elongated canines that had given him access to her lifeblood and used her as a snack. In hindsight, he laughed at the tableau before him. Annie would obviously be one for a romance novel fantasy. He chuckled at the supposed innocence in her character up until her lycanthropic confession, nonetheless abhorred his rather gruesome demise.

Upon her initial attack on his cursed counterpart he'd shot up in bed, awakened by the violence and odd nature of the dream turned nightmare. Jeff's blankets were in disarray, twisted and wrapped up in them from his restless sleep. Untangling them proved to a challenge, and after a minute of wrestling, he fell out of bed with a loud thunk and scrapping against the corner of the nightstand.

Grumbling, he picked himself up and dragged himself into the bathroom. The glare of the light caused him to wince, his sleep riddled mind forgetting that sudden illumination hurt to no end. Squinting, he looked at himself in the mirror, and saw the image of a fit, strong man with a bleeding horizontal cut over his left eyebrow.

* * *

November 1st, 2011 started off with the normal regimen of hair and skin care. But the dark circles under his eyes were indication that it was going to be a long day of classes, study group, and the usual antics. The habitual grooming was quick. The bed head hair was legitimate as opposed to perfectly styled this cloudy morning. But the cut on his forehead above his brow made him more self-conscious than ever. It was any angry red line he could do nothing about. Thankfully there was no bruise, but the red scratch on his painstakingly moisturized skin was taunting him.

* * *

She was absent.

Annie was never absent from classes.

The startling revelation, only fifteen hours after parting ways, kept lingering in Jeff's mind. He could go check on Annie, for her safety ofcourse, but in his mind he was still worried about propriety and groupthink. He was thirty-three, she was twenty. She was in Girl Scouts when he was graduating high school.

He slipped out and left the group who were still discussing the results of Britta's flawed tests, after the first half-hour of Angry Birds and ignoring the conversation. His drive to her small apartment was quiet, the route to her home burned and ingrained into his head. Greendale wasn't that big, but the stretch of State Street was annoyingly long and boring and full of traffic signals. Entranced by the road, he passed by a familiar gray hatchback in the parking lot of a protestant church at thirty-five miles per hour.

The brake pedal should have gone through the floor boards as he skidded to a stop twenty feet past the entrance to the lot. Swerving around traffic in a frantic U-turn, he parked next to Annie's car and locked the doors.

None of this made sense. Annie was never sick. Annie had made no indication of even acknowledging Christianity above and beyond her disappointment in Shirley trying to convert her from Judaism. Yes, Annie Edison had an air of mystery about her on occasions, but things lately were getting stranger and stranger.

He was unused to being inside a house of worship. He'd seen plenty in the movies, and the occasional half-hearted attempt his mother had made him attend when he was younger. His agnosticism stretched into his never really differentiating the various divisions of Christianity. So he wasn't sure if this Catholic or Baptist, but this was not a synagogue. Jeff was scanning the area for a confessional or baptismal fount or crucified Jesus.

This sanctuary was plain. Stained glass windows on either sides of the large space, weathered and worn pews blending with maroon cushions on scarlet carpet. It was dignified, not ostentatious; simple, yet masterful in its own humbleness.

A figure was kneeling at the communion rail, knees suported by a scarlet pad on the color coordinated red carpet. An older man in a white robe had a small loaf of bread that he broke in half, and raised it above his head. Setting it back down, he poured a pitcher of red wine into a chalice, and repeated the process. He murmured a blessing, and the familiar sense of this ritual came back to him.

The blessing complete, the pastor stepped out from his place behind the alter, placing the chalice and small platter of bread near the railing. The smaller figure's head was bowed. When the pastor looked up, he nodded his head and motioned for Jeff to approach.

Jeff Winger wasn't a religious man. He had very little faith in anything these days except himself, and maybe his friends in the Study Group. And he hated to admit that that was fleeting on rare occasions. In his mind, God might not even exist. He was never sure. Surely a loving and caring deity would not have shat upon the world as such.

But something drew him towards the railing. Something inside his chest stirred. He walked slowly, summoned by some unseen force. When he knelt on pad, he smelled the apple pectin shampoo one Annie Edison had been using as of late. He turned to look at her, but she made no indication of him being there or acknowledgement of his presence. Jeff looked down, seeing her hands cupped. The minister placed a small piece of bread in the tall man's quickly cupped hands. He slowly brought it to his mouth, and ate it. The older man administered the body of Christ to Annie as well. The chalice of wine was next, and Winger pressed the silver cup to his lips, drinking momentarily from it. Again, Annie followed.

The administration of the ritual completed, the rector placed his hands on both of heads and spoke softly. "May the Lord bless you and keep you, may He smile upon you, and grant you peace." Jeff felt something fulfilling in taking part in communion. It was the first time in over twenty-two years that he'd done such a thing. And he might even admit to feeling a small stirring in his heart. That was something for another time though; his immediate concern was answers from the slim woman next to him. Annie's head was still bowed as the pastor nodded to the younger man again, and then left the alter and sanctuary.

In a supposed contradiction to the church she was in, Annie crossed herself and left the railing. He said a quick prayer himself, then rose and followed her to a pew. She sat down in the middle, leaving him plenty of room. Annie smoothed her skirt, and looked forward. Jeff sat as well, leaving two feet between them. Edison sighed, but still stared forward towards the lectern.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

"Uh…Pot and kettle?"

"No Jeff, you are NOT supposed to be here, today. The one day I don't come to school, and you of all people show up at a church that I just happen to be at."

"I saw your car." She shook her head. "Aren't you Jewish?"

"Aren't you Agnostic?" Annie snapped back.

That sat in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"You can talk to me, you know. I'm not always a smart-a-"

She slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a dirty look. "Don't say that in here." She hissed.

"You do know that playing hooky shouldn't be this stressful of serious."

"Jeff." She sighed in resignation. "It's best just to forget about this. It's…complicated."

"Funny, I just happen to be a guy whose specialty is complicated."

"I told you, I'm not talking about this. Please don't pressure me." She stood and started shuffling away from him when he grabbed her hand with his own. Annie spun around just as quickly, her other hand slapping him. He'd felt her punch once, but this slap was on a whole new level. It gave him a sense of whiplash as he nearly stumbled over. He let go of her hand and tried to catch his balance using the back of the pew in front of him. She glared at him with undisguised anger and rage. "Do _not_touch me Jeff. Just…just go home and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait Annie-" Her glare went from frosty to arctic.

"Now!" she roared, her voice echoing of the solid walls of the sanctuary. He winced at the sound, covering his ears as quickly as he could. He opened his eyes a second later and she wasn't next to him, or storming off, or even in the sanctuary.

She'd just vanished.

* * *

**_The Past_**

Her dress and cloak were in tatters. Her bare feet were covered in mud and grime. The Woman's face was gaunt, her eyes wild, her breathing shallow. She'd been in the forest for two days now; running from the village that had shunned her. At one point, she'd had to dive into a culvert as the sounds of galloping horses approached. In her pleading for a pardon for her husband, she'd become an unwitting whore. It was plain as day, as she'd spread her legs for those 'men' who had no intentions of helping her. The Lord would not forgive her for this. No, God was merciless to the wicked. He punished those who stepped away from His teachings.

She was being hunted, most likely to be caught for another round of 'confession' and 'forgiveness.' Even the clergy men had been corrupted by greed and lust. They didn't bat an eye about their impromptu visits and improvised actions when she was shackled or pleasing the magister of the village. No, God had forsaken her and her husband. No repentance could take place.

_You have roamed far, little one._

"Who is there?" The Woman's voice was a raspy whisper. She hadn't spoken in the two days she'd been on the run.

"What do you want?"

_To help. Journey down the road further and you will reach a camp of Romani. They will take you in. _

"Why do you help me?"

_I too know the pain of loss by ignorant fools. Please, let me and my people assist you. _

The Woman felt the voice and presence leave her. She shivered in the cold, both from the brief conversation as well as the temperatures of the forest in late fall. But the voice was reassuring, though she truly doubted It knew the pain of her loss.

She was greeted warmly by the Romani people, who had set up camp in the wooded area well south of the town. Two children had been waiting by the roadside, one with a skin of water, and the other with a small loaf of bread. The Woman eagerly drank the water, then bit into and relished the taste of the hunk of bread. The boys led her into the campsite, to the campfire circled by wagons. Around the camp, men and women cooked or cleaned, putting babies to bed and rounding up the older children. She was amazed at the organization of these gypsies. In the village, she'd heard tales of their tattered clothes and eating of children. How they banded together at night to hunt for stray villagers. Perhaps the stories the priest in her village told were not completely true.

But who was she to trust in that man of the cloth, after what he'd done to her as well. He'd been the most hurtful of them all, locking her in chain; and she shivered at what he'd done to her in her attempts for leniency.

"You must calm yourself, young one." The Woman realized she was in a panic and did her best to calm herself. She wasn't sure if she was safe, but at the very least she could rest. She looked over to a huddled mass of blankets and saw a wrinkled face with eyes shining brightly in turn watching the Woman with keen interest. "What causes you such grief my daughter?

"I have lost my love, my husband."

She nodded at the younger woman. "I can sense anger though." There was silence, save for the movement in the camp. Finally, the elder heard the Woman whisper.

The Woman was shaking with fury remembering everything that had happened. "I want them all dead."

"Child, revenge is not the way for you. Though you have suffered, you must see the good in mankind."

"I refuse! The good in man has gained me nothing."

"Then I cry for you dear one, and urge you to find your way back to the light before it is too late."

The young woman was silent in some semblance of contemplation; she knew the old crone was right. There was anger in her heart. Outrage for what was done to her in the name of "justice and mercy."

They had taken from her her innocence. The Woman's mind whirled as her thoughts and sorrow combined into a white hot wrath. But the Woman was tired, and the racing thoughts were not enough to keep her from falling asleep on the ground in front of the fire in exhaustion.

Early the next morning, her cheek was being licked by an animal who had sat next to her. She smiled at the innocence of kitten through barely cracked eyelids. Her mother, years ago had given her a kitten that did the same. But one day, the cat had run off and the young woman had been heartbroken. Her mother had chastised her for that, saying that she had squandered the gift.

In the present, now, the kitten had snuggled next to her, softly purring and then snoring contently. The Woman's eyes fluttered and she fell back into her exhaustion induced slumber.

"You have made a friend, I see." The crone spoke softly, a smile creasing her already wrinkled face. The huddled mass of robes was once more on the log in front of the fire. "This little one has been with us for many years now." The younger Woman heard the crone, waking slowly, feeling the warm ball of fur against her body.

"I had a kitten like this when I was younger. This one reminds so much…of what I've lost."

"You will be okay, dear child, just remember that there is more to this world than hatred." The crone gave the Woman a comforting look and slowly stood up. With the help of a walking stick she hobbled off. The Woman's eyes wanted to close again, but the activity of the camp was going to make that impossible.

The bustle of bodies around the Romani Camp was a comfort to the Woman, reminding her of what was now her former life in the village. The old woman, an elder of the kumpania, seemed to have had a plan of keeping her busy so she wouldn't dwell on the recent events that had scarred her so. By the end of the day, she had been so tired that the matriarch had given her shelter in one of the tents. She was by herself, for courtesy to the grieving widow and visitor to the enclave. They'd been kind enough to provide parchment to her, a rare and beloved gift from her hosts. With the small feathers and fresh ink, she wrote down the list of those who would pay for their crimes. She hid the list in the small bag they had also provided. These people seemed to understand her, and surprisingly had accepted the Woman with open arms. They'd provided her with so much, having so little. The old crone was right, there was good in mankind; and while she had been raised in the Holy Roman Church that preached intolerance, these people treated their own like family, no matter the gender or age. But she could never forgive those that took her beloved away from her.

A week had passed since she'd left the small village, and in that time she'd come to terms with one hard truth. To go back to the village, she would be branded a whore and become vilified amongst the people. From reports by fellow travelers along the road, stopping to trade with the gypsies, she'd learned that her and her husband's small home had been ransacked and looted. One of the travelers had bought the pendent the Husband had given her for their first anniversary. The Crone gave the traveler what she could, and the Woman was truly gracious for the return of one of her belongings.

She wasn't bored, as they'd put her to work with the various duties of keeping the camp in order. The Romani were strict but caring, and had invited her into their extended family, for which she was grateful. Her tent now held two of the other girls, younger than she by a few years. At night, she slept with few interruptions, save for the time she would spend with her husband in the dreamscape. He was caring, compassionate, whispering comforting thoughts and begging her to let go of the ire that poisoned her heart. She felt so much those nights, but longed for the physical contact, the carnal yet innocent passion they had shared.

_I cannot give you what you lost, but I can give you what you need to take revenge. _

The voice had not spoken since leading her to the camp. It was hypnotic, but comforting. She was alone when she had heard it, letting out a startled gasp. But this time, it promised her something that she was still craving, be it unconsciously.

"How?" The Woman whispered to the voice, as if talking to thin air.

_Meet me in the wood at midnight. By the small lake there is a tree uncommon to this forest. You will find me there. _

There was no question. She eagerly awaited the answer to the growing craving for vengeance she desired.


	2. Chapter 1b

**Part 1b**

* * *

**_The Present_**

November 2nd, 2011 was like any day, save for being drowsier in the morning than the day before. Jeff once more crawled out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom for the standard morning ritual. He was groggy, but his mind immediately started processing what he'd seen the day before. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing was making any sense, and it was driving him mad. But there was only one person he could speak with who would help him piece everything together.

Abed sat in his chair writing on a piece of paper everything that Jeff had told him from the previous day. Next to him sat the now empty large bowl that once held a massive amount of milk and cereal; the younger man sat silently looking out into nowhere, something Jeff had been used to by now. Finally, Nadir nodded and looked at his friend.

"Annie's been lying to us."

"Sorry?"

"Ever since we've known her, she has always stated she was Jewish. We had no reason to suspect a lie from her. Because it's Annie and we all assume that Annie doesn't lie. But on Christmas last year, she did state that her father was Christian."

"I missed that part."

"You were off getting laid."

"And I apologized for that buddy."

"Annie's religion is one of many clues to the bigger picture."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The contradictions to her life are as follows. First, she says she is on an extremely fixed income, but over the last three years has changed her wardrobe several times. Annie recently bought a high-end laptop after refusing to take Pierce's money. Her purple pens are another indicator."

"Purple pens?"

"Yes, seeing as she went through ten packs alone last year. So she has an external flow of income but her mother cut her off and her dad is missing in action. Her car has on three separate occasions needed maintenance, and within a day of something happening to it it's fixed.

"Second, she doesn't actually study." Jeff fell off his chair (rather comedically in Abed's eyes), picked himself back up, and once again forgetting about the low hanging ceiling fan he was treated to another whack to his head.

"Don't worry, I'm not bleeding."

Abed shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "I knew you wouldn't be. Getting back on track, Annie has kept a GPA higher than every student at Greendale, but only had problems in one class: Spanish. Troy vaguely remembers though that she took Spanish in high school and still had a perfect grade point average. She didn't join the study group for help. Her breathing and occasional eye-rolls during group means the subject matter would seem to bore her. Yet she's first one in and last to leave."

"Can we get to the point? Or do we have to pull a U-turn to get back to it?"

"I'm still putting all the pieces together. And so far I can say this: it has something to do with you." Winger raised an eyebrow. "Remember that Annie joined our group without knowing Troy would be joining as well. She stated that she found out about the study group on accident and immediately challenged your position and credentials."

"I don't remember that part."

"You were trying to get into Britta's pants."

"Moving on."

"Annie didn't say she knew Troy until after he mentioned Riverside High, and then it was like she was reciting information. Her outrage was forced and faked. She went from indifferent to school girl crush in seconds." Jeff was starting to follow Abed's train of thought now, but it was still clear as mud.

"Maybe she hadn't seen him all summer and was surprised by him being there. All naïve teenagers with unrequited crushes are like that."

Abed's shoulder's shrugged "True, but she also would have sat closer to him, perhaps in Shirley's or my seat. Instead, she was as far away as possible by design. But at the same time, she sat close to you with a respectable distance. I don't know if that was by chance or pre-planning."

"That's a pretty flimsy story. And if the basis of the argument comes from Troy's memories, seating preference, and purple pens, I'm going to have that evidence thrown out"

"It's another piece of the puzzle. It's all comes together in the next five examples. "

"Abed, I really don't have all day." Jeff groaned, wondering if this was a mistake.

"Spoilers then." Abed looked over his notes. "She wants you; you're the ultimate goal of her plan. Annie doesn't need to study, but she helps you out the most. When broken down into percentages, you are with her an estimated seventy percent of the time. Anytime she opens up, she opens up in front of you. She's changed and evolved over time into what she believes is the ideal woman you want; during Dungeons and Dragons she showed she was carnally knowledgeable."

"No complaint." Winger smiled. In his mind, Hector the Well-Endowed had been a buxom woman with silky brown hair and skimpy metal bikini armor, while the Elf Maiden looked a _lot_ like Britta in a diaphanous silk robe. It was a fantasy he'd gone to bed with a few times.

Abed nodded. "The second time she opened up, was during the second paintball game. She proved she could fight and she could certainly dress the part of a Western Heroine. She became the 'independent tough girl' character within the first hour of our partnership; which is what she thought you wanted. The only reason she kissed me was because I was doing a part that you should have played and was playing a part. Kissing me was to make you jealous upon admission of said kiss. I'll admit, for a second, I felt something for her. But that second came and went, and I knew she would never be interested in me like she was you." He looked up at the older man, who was frozen in astonishment by the moments he'd taken for granted.

"So she's lying to get close to me, and the innocence is fake?"

"Back to the topic at hand, and simply put, yes her entire persona is an act. But why go to such lengths? Why create an identity that has such dynamic character growth? How has she developed talents like this and she's only twenty. I wonder if she'd be interested in portraying the villain in my next homage." Nadir was back in sub-space.

"Abed, stay with me."

"In conclusion, she's not Annie Edison, she's a person pretending to be her."

"Then who is she?"

He was quiet for several moments, and then an answer Jeff never expected was said. "I don't know."

Jeff was still rubbing his forehead, but he knew his hyper-observant friend was right. "So what do we do?"

"Have you ever learned anything from my documentaries? I'm not involved. I'm just your impartial guide. Your Yoda if you will."

"Minus the syntax issues and the green ears." That earned him a vocal pew and gun pantomime.

* * *

He waited for Annie to leave her World History class that day. Annie Kim had come out first, rolling her eyes at the tall man, followed by most of the other students. Edison was the last out of Cligoris' classroom, and locked eyes with Jeff. The effervescent smile that more often than not melted his heart was in full effect. Little Mermaid and bike chains, she was too damn good at it.

"Jeff! Aren't you supposed to be in class now?"

"Mental health day."

She groaned. "Can you for once take your education seriously?" Annie was a master of the guilt trip. He loved it and hated it, because it made him do actual work on occasion.

"You wanna blow off the rest of classes today?" She huffed. "Seriously, I'm tired of this place and want to hang out with a friend." They started walking towards the main doors of the building, and she looked up at him, which involved craning her neck to an uncomfortable angle.

"What about school work? We have study group in an hour."

"Taken care of, I told Britta we were going to the park to collect more material for the next terrarium." Annie stopped, conflicted but close to persuaded.

"What do you have in mind?"

"The diner on Fifth Street… the uh…the Greasy Spoon." He snapped his finger, impressed he remember that dive. "They have a great milkshake, and I saved up a junk food day from last month."

She bit her lip in thought. "I can't really afford that right now Jeff."

He was ready with a rebuttal. "My treat." She looked down, and he knew that false indecision gesture. Winger was familiar with it. "C'mon Annie. This place is killing me. And one day off isn't going to kill you."

"All right, but you promise me we'll study later tonight." Edison gave in, having put on enough of a show.

"Promise."

* * *

"So."

"So…." Jeff took a swig of his coffee, looking directly into Annie's eyes. "What happened yesterday?" Annie stared back, taking a sip of her milkshake through the straw. She wasn't nervous. She had stared him down before, it wasn't difficult. And if she worked at it, he was putty in her hands. It was a facet of their relationship that both of them had come to acknowledge, one he always tried to resist.

"You're going to press me until I say something, aren't I."

"Worked in the courtroom."

"We're not in the courtroom. The rules are different."

"Yeah, well, bet I could get you to tell me. It's not hard. Just spill what you have to say."

"Jeff, I…I don't really want to. Can you please respect my privacy?" Winger shook his head.

"Sorry kiddo, I don't give up that easily."

She sighed in resignation. "You weren't on the train when I told Abed and Troy about my parents. My mother's side is Jewish, but my father's side is Episcopalian. Once in a while, I go there. It's totally a contradiction of Judaism, but doing communion helps me. It makes me…feel whole again." She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up a little. Something Jeff found familiar in his own behaviors. "I don't think you can understand all this. Can we just leave it at that?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "That didn't take the whole day though." Their meals arrived, and Jeff dug into his bacon and cheese omelet. Annie's large and fluffy pancakes looked appealing to him too, and he figured he might snag a bite when she couldn't eat them after a while. She had a habit of not finishing something like this. Avoiding the question, she worked on her pancakes; smoothing the scoop of butter on the top cake, then cutting them into almost perfect squares, followed by a generous amount of syrup.

"Can I trust you?"

"You know you can. What kind of question is that?"

"I have trust issues."

"I never thought of that as one of your neuroses, but I can add that to the list."

"You're so kind." She replied with a sly smile. She forked another bite of pancake loaded with a coma-inducing amount of syrup. "What if I haven't been that truthful to you?"

Jeff nodded. "I'd say that Abed and I were on the right track." She froze.

"Like?"

"Your sudden improvement in cash flow?"

Annie shrugged her shoulders hesitantly. "I played the lottery one time and bought a few necessities."

"I'm just going to say it then. You don't study."

"I…how dare you question my commitment to education." She was good. He'd have to pull out the big guns.

"Okay, what about your GPA in high school and your Princeton Scholarship. Someone who struggles in a Spanish 101 class doesn't quite fit."

"That's…that's not relevant. I was still working through some issues with my addiction."

"The Annie of it all."

"Oh, now you acknowledge it?"

"Dungeons and Dragon, Paintball, Professorson and the kiss at the Transfer Dance. Every time you changed your personality. Can't keep it straight?"

"I can't believe you of all people would piece something so absurd like _that_ together!" She sneered.

He slammed the table. "Because it's all true!" They glared at each other, Annie's eyes wide open in surprise, Jeff's in determination. She knew he wasn't going to give up. The look he gave her. And that's when she broke.

"How…."

"Abed."

"You believe him?"

Jeff nodded. "He makes a convincing case. Can you level with me, please?" She took a breath, deflating more and more. "Annie, I care about you. Just tell me what's going on."

"It is complica-DUCK!" Jeff arched an eyebrow at the same time as Annie grabbed him from across the table in the booth and threw them both to the floor; the picture window shattered and bullets streamed through, pockmarking the wall and counter. Several more gunshots were heard, followed by the squealing of tires on the pavement as an engine roared and a vehicle sped off.

His head hit the floor, hard. His vision was fuzzy, his head was pounding.

It was too much for him.

Everything went dark.

* * *

**_The Past_**

The Woman stood by the willow tree in the coniferous forest near the camp. The thin branches waved slowly in the soft wind, rustling the leaves on the moonlit night. She was under the canopy, protected from watching eyes, waiting for the mysterious voice to present itself. She'd waited hours, each one becoming more unbearable, shivering in the cool October air. The camp had been inactive in the late hours, with only a few sentries patrolling.

Her husband, her dear beloved husband Janos, had taught her how to move with the wind and stay untraceable in the wilderness. In her escape, her grief prevented such skills from prevailing against the searching horsemen of the village. Now, she used them with ease and evaded any prying individuals. She loved her new family. But at the same time, she felt stifled by Grandmother and her watchful gaze. They truly cared for her, but she needed more though. A month had gone by and she felt angry, furious at what had been done to Janos and subsequently her. The Woman wanted vengeance, and the lust for it grew every day, seething and burning like the fires that had taken him.

Her mind was clouded with a red haze when she felt a presence near her. Its breathing was soft, barely audible to the Woman. The presence had made no sound, having apparently moving with the wind blowing over the Wallachian forests.

"You came."

_"I did. As I was the one to summon you, it would have been foolish not to follow through on such an invitation." _

The Woman looked around the canopy, searching for the voice. "Why am I here?"

The presence replied. _"Because I wish to offer you a gift; one that should be thoroughly considered before you make the decision to accept." _

"Why?" She shivered as the mist surrounded the forest, seeping through the willow branches.

_"You have great anger in you. Your pain is raw, and it radiates off you in ways you cannot know. I have felt this before in myself. I've felt the injustice. In your mind, you wish your husband was alive and well, both living the life you had been robbed of, and it's vengeance you crave. I can help you. For a price." _

"Anything!" She yelled instantly. There was nothing left save the bloodlust.

_"To gain this power, you must give me your mortality. In exchange, I give the power to destroy those who wronged you. You will rain destruction upon them, their children, and their descendants."_

The woman hesitated. Could she do this? The Church wanted the very same, her soul, but had given her nothing. She had been told she would not see her husband again in the afterlife. Treacherous persons were sent to Hell. In her heart, she knew he should never be sent there. But she was told for years the Church was always right. The priest, who'd abused her, told her this was the truth. And now she had nothing left to live for.

"I accept."

She felt a frosty breath on her pale neck. The mist had surrounded the Woman, and caused a cold shiver to shoot through her. Her hands trembled as they interlocked with materializing, freezing fingers. The Woman felt a body press against her, and the voice no longer whispered in her head.

"Then let us begin, Elisabeta Vintila." Elisabeta was shocked when two sharp objects stabbed into her neck, the cold replaced by warmth of the presence's lips and breath. The feeling bored into her very soul, the pain coursing through her body. A searing agony ran down her spine, every nerve ending burning. She wanted to scream, ached to scream. But there was nothing, save for a choked sob that barely escaped her.

The pain was everlasting. She'd never escape. The torture would continue forever, and in that moment she regretted the decision. Nothing was worth this. Better she die and see her husband in Hell than to prolong what was happening to her.

All of a sudden the pain was receding. Her senses were failing her. The woman's eyes were closing, her skin numbing. An inky darkness was descending, her vision was tunneling. She was struggling to stay awake. What was happening? Where was the pain?

Elisabeta Anabeth Vintila died on a cold October night under a willow tree. She died proverbially alone, no one to weep for her passing. The presence, the man who had done this to her, watched the life drain from her body, having feasted on alabaster flesh and crimson life force. She had been succulent. Despite the cruelty of the clergy and the villagers, despite what she had done for her dead husband, her soul was untainted.

He laid her in the dewy grass then turned towards the tree. Pulling out a small dagger, he cut several willow branches down, and went to work on a circlet; a tiara fit for a forthcoming Princess of the Night.

* * *

**Notes**  
First off, I started this the day after the Halloween Episode of 2011 (Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps, episode 03x05). It's been a long process, and I'd hoped to have this out before Thanksgiving. …That didn't happen, did it? So then the goal was Christmas, but editing on the second draft didn't allow that to happen. So here we are in the middle of January and I still haven't got this beast completed.

In the framework of the story, it would seem that she (the Woman) would in fact be a shrinking violet. Bad things happened to her. That's fact. That's scarred her and made her stronger in the end, though it took her a long time to come to terms. I'm not a sadist. And I have no joy in having people victimized like that. That kind of shit just ain't right. Which is why I won't be doing any kind of _Saw_ or _Hostel_ stuff.

Second, I have nothing against organized religion, specifically against Catholicism or Judaism. The people involved in the village were corrupt, and were not representative of the Church as a whole. During the 15th Century, the Church was still widespread throughout Europe and held a lot of power. Add the fact that in many of the villages, the clergy was a powerful force to be reckoned with as the most educated individuals in the town as well as in most cases the sole link between believers and God. This story takes place right before and during the creation of Gutenberg's movable metal type, and decades before the 95 Theses of Martin Luther, who protested against plenary indulgences.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_The Past_**

Elisabeta gasped. Her lungs filled with air, and she felt like she hadn't taken a breath in years. Above her, the swaying canopy of the willow tree blocked the ghostly silver moon in the sky. Her eyes adjusting to the muted moonshine, the young woman attempted to sit up but could barely move. She had no strength, despite the will. A coughing fit struck, her throat felt raw, and her body wanted to convulse. Elisabeta, simply put, was scared. Her eyes were moistened as she felt more helpless than ever before. The single tear that started down her cheek dripped to the ground.

A flute was playing. She could hear it nearby where she lay. The melody was melancholy, with no cheer to be found; yet a few notes broke through, as if sounding a semblance of weakened hope that could rise above the sadness. It gave her strength; she sniffed her nose, and concentrated on slowly turning her head towards the flutist. He looked up at the prone woman, a sly smile on his face. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, made of a dark material that shimmered without any source of light.

"I see the Princess has awoken."

She tried to speak, but could only make out a quiet, rasping whisper. "Wh…at…h..av…y…o…u…." The man nodded his head in understanding.

"My gift takes time to adjust. The weakness you feel will fade away. And while we have this time, I may relay several details and instructions to you, dear Princess. Please blink if you understand. Once for yes, twice for no. Yes?"

The young woman blinked once.

"Stupendous! Now, what you experience is something only few have seen or felt. Vampirism is nothing to worry about, unlike what the Church and old wives' tales may tell you. We are not monsters, unless we choose to be."

"I…feel…."

The man nodded his head again then crawled over to where she lay. Sitting near her head, he placed a hand on her forehead. "How do you feel…wait, can you move anything yet? I do forget the limits of communication so early in your new life."

Elisabeta blinked one time again. She felt strength flow through her, muscles ached less. She felt the dew under her finger tips, the cold breeze on her skin. The man's hand felt cooler than normal, but the touch and slight warmth were welcomed whole heartedly.

"I…feel…. What…am I?"

"You are now far more powerful than all the people in this wretched world. To business though. The kumpania you travel with, the gypsies that is, are under my protection. And yours now too, the consequence of what you are about to do will require that you watch over them."

She nodded, slowly propping herself up on her elbows. "The village."

"Yes. Elisabeta, you are undertaking something that will affect many, many people. While I have no love for most humans or the matters of their world, I do realize that this will draw a large amount of attention." Her eyes flared with anger. If she could, she'd have slapped him, but the strength still wasn't there.

"They deserve no mercy." She whispered, unable to reign in her anger. "They killed Janos. They will pay."

"Then suffer the little children? Hm?"

"None of them…every man, woman and child."

Her sire closed his eyes and hung his head. "And there is nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?" She sneered at him. "I thought so. You shouldn't scrunch your face up my dear, it's truly an injustice to your beauty." The young woman sat up further, more strength and balance returning to her body. "Well, we should get on with the necessary details. You'll be stronger in the evening. You will need to find a source of blood, which is an unfortunate price for our powers."

"I don't care."

"Excuse me; you don't care what I have to tell you."

"No."

"You're rather flippant for a young woman. Your husband must have found you pig headed."

"He did."

"This is pointless then. Go, have your revenge. You know not what you can do, but I assume you will find out soon." He stood and walked over to the tree. Leaning over, he grabbed a black bag and brought it back to the prone woman. He dropped it then turned and walked away. He stopped and looked back at Elisabeta. "Use this. And remember that you will be called to help the kumpania at their bidding."

She dug through the pack finding a willow tiara, a large book, and an ivory mask with a horizontal red line like a tear drop from the eyehole.

"Don't get caught. If I have to clean up your mess, I will be most displeased." The man walked through the canopy and of into the night. Elisabeta looked at the mask with sad eyes; the bleached white porcelain was cool in her hands. One hand trailed to the side, where a silk ribbon would be tied to the other side to hold it tight when she wore it.

And she would wear it. Soon.

* * *

Marga Steopan enjoyed the life her husband gave her. While he was rarely ever present, he sent lavish gifts and provided for her. Tonight, she was drinking from a mulled wine from a recent conquest and pillaging. She knew what he did, she knew it was wrong, but she didn't care. He had certainly profited from the recent execution of a junior officer who attempted to put a stop to it. The charges had been trumped up, and she would easily admit she was sometimes jealous of Elisabeta Vintila and the simple yet joyful life she and her own husband lived. She coveted this happiness on occasions, but watching her downfall had been even more luscious.

She enjoyed watching Elisabeta debase herself in the attempt to save the life of the junior knight under her Radu. She paid to covertly watch several of the sessions the village elders and clergymen had subjected the brunette woman to. She suggested the irons, the whipping, and the rough pillaging of Elisabeta's innocence. And Marga enjoyed even more the priest stating to the younger woman that despite what she'd just done, Janos' soul was forever lost to the fires of Hell.

With the banishment of Elisabeta and the execution of Janos, Marga and Radu enjoyed looting the young couple's modest home. They picked it clean, enjoying the feeling of knocking down such innocents. And Marga now enjoyed a wonderful wardrobe that made her look ravishing to her husband, and several of the younger suitors she dallied with on rare occasions.

Yes, life was grand this evening. She had everything she wanted, she had destroyed two lives for her personal enjoyment, and now the heady mix of cinnamon in the heated wine was causing a wonderful fuzziness in her mind. Falling deeper into the rare and luscious cushions, she watched the light of the candles flicker against the walls. And with the hypnotic flickering and the dulled senses, she did not hear the door open and close with little noise. Marga put the glass of wine on the table, and let her head lull and rest against the back of furniture. She opened her eyes, and watched the shadows move randomly from the glow of the fire. She didn't here muted shuffling, but her eyes were fluttering and it was time to retire to the bedroom. Her bed would be empty tonight. None of her suitors had come by, and Radu was off on another campaign against the Turks, so it would be cold tonight despite the massive hearth in the bedroom. She padded up the stairs, the creak of each wooden step echoing through the quiet room living room and into the lofted bedroom.

She changed into a dressing gown, crawling into the large bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. Still chilled under the quilt she'd had made a year before, she unconsciously pulled the covers to her neck.

"Marga…" Marga Steopan jerked, her mind still unclear, but now aware that someone was in the room with her. She'd not had a woman in years, and she'd not invited anyone tonight, or so she remembered. "Oh Marga, how you have become such a bloated cow." The mistress of the house felt a cool wind breath on the skin of her neck.

"Who are you!"

"I am the angel of death, Marga. Ye are guilty." And suddenly, Marga felt a sharp jab into her neck by two pointed objects. Blood streamed freely, and a tongue lapped up the gore that was flowing freely out of her neck. The assailant released the woman, pushing her down to the bed. "Oh but you do taste wonderful, perhaps…mulled wine with a touch of cinnamon. I always liked your tastes in beverages." It was a feminine voice coming from her attacker. It was familiar, yet cold and hollow. Marga was being played with, something she did not enjoy, ever. The female who had attacked her, moved around the bed, towards the wardrobe she prized so much. She heard the door open, and the clicking of a tongue.

"Stay away from there!"

"You have stolen much from me Marga. In fact, you have my favorite dress, the one I wore at my wedding. Did you enjoy taking it for yourself?"

And realization struck the woman. "It's not possible!" The wardrobe closed after an item of clothing was removed. Marga had placed the quilt against her neck, working on staunching the blood loss.

The hearth crackled as a large fire appeared, and more rustling was heard as the familiar woman was disrobing. In the shadows, Marga saw alabaster, unmarked skin. The wedding robes of Elisabeta Vintila were rustling again, and was now being worn by its original owner.

"Much better." The young woman looked over the hearth and saw another item that had belonged to her and her love. Janos' sword was a source of pride to her husband. It was made by a blacksmith friend who had forged it, using a unique merging of a short sword and a sickle. The falx looked like a farming tool, but its unassuming nature had confused his enemies and dismembered them handily. Crossed over Janos' weapon was the smaller short sword forged by the same blacksmith, with a small blue jewel at the bottom of the hilt. The same color of his wife's eyes. "I must thank you Marga, as you and your husband have my life easier in keeping everything in one place."

Marga watched as Elisabeta seemed to float towards her. "Please, I'm sorry! It was Radu's plot!" The wound from her neck ached, but the bleeding had subsided. Perhaps the younger woman wanted her property. Perhaps she wanted nothing more to do with Marga.

"Why were you always so jealous Marge? Why did you do this?"

But what Marga wanted least of all was such foolish questions. "Because you had everything! It should have been mine! Janos should have been mine but you stole him. So I settled for Radu. Everything was given to you!" And now, there was a slight giggle from the younger woman.

"So foolish. Raise your arm, you tainted bitch." Marga immediately did as she was told, unsure why. Elisabeta grabbed the wrist and plunged her fangs again into this wretched woman's body. She slaked her thirst, enjoying the sweet lifeblood of her enemy. The girl drank deeply, then stopped and took some of the bed sheet and wrapped it around Marga's wrist. "I want you to remember something, Marga Steopan. You have brought this upon yourself, and you have doomed this entire village to death. Know that the lives of every man, woman, and child are now on your head."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh but I shall, Marga. I curse you to Hell for your crimes."

"Demon! You have no right!" Elisabeta raised her hand and struck her former friend. The older woman's head whipped to the side, the slap harder than one she had ever experienced. Her hand came up to her bruised cheek, tears welling up in her eyes. "Kill me than!"

"No." The younger vampire said softly. "You shall live." And then, Elisabeta was gone, leaving the whimpering woman on her bed with two wounds oozing. Within minutes, she heard the cries of a dying village.

* * *

**_The Present_**

His head ached. But it was lying on the most wonderful pillow in the world. Jeff groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and rubbing it and his temples to clear the cottony feeling out of his mind. He could tell he was still fully clothed, albeit with no shoes or socks on. And he didn't mind it so much, because designer shoes were uncomfortable on many an occasion. His eyes opened to a large expanse of red above him.

Looking to the sides, he saw the red fabric attached to a burnished wooden post leading down to the headboard of the bed he lay. Red curtains were drawn back, revealing a room of indeterminate style. He saw the rows of books on the bookshelves. He saw a large flat screen attached to the wall, as well as a music system to rival anything he'd ever seen. It was playing a quiet symphonic piece, and it was soothing to both his mind and heart.

"You're awake." Jeff looked to the right and saw Annie Edison sitting next, a worried look on her face. His head felt like it was full of cotton, and he might as well have been chewing more of it like gum.

"What happened?"

"There was a drive by shooting at the diner. I yanked you down to the floor when the first window broke."

His memory was foggy, and he started the process of putting the pieces together. "Didn't…you reach across the table?"

"I can't remember." She shook her head. He couldn't help but notice the brunette curtain swish. "There was so much going on, I couldn't remember. The paramedics said you were okay but needed to rest. They were concerned about a concussion. How do you feel?"

"Like shit."

"I thought I'd lost you." He chuckled, letting his head land back atop the giant pillow.

"Takes a little more to knock out a guy like me."

"And there's the ego." Edison stood from her chair and crawled onto the bed next to him.

"Whatever you say Florence Nightingale." Laying her head next to his, she sighed and peered at him with her large blue eyes.

"I was still worried."

A lock of hair fell over her eyes, and he brushed it aside. "Uh…sorry?"

"Jeff, you were seriously hurt…"

"A concussion is pretty far from 'seriously hurt.'"

"I just…don't want anything to happen to you." She moved closer to him.

"Annie?" She nuzzled his neck to his surprise, and it felt good.

"Hm?"

"I'm…this is really nice, but where are we?"

"I booked a room."

"With what money?"

"Your credit card." He sighed heavily. "I'm Mrs. Winger for the time being. They understood you were a little loopy."

"When did we get married?"

"Sometime between here and the diner. And you actually gave them the card. I just helped sign the receipt."

"You're going to kill me Edison. I swear."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to see you in the hospital. Not like Pierce."

"You do realize that I'm close to my credit limit, right?"

"Mmhmm." She was peppering kisses on his neck now.

"Annie?"

"Yes?" She stopped momentarily, knowing this would drive him nuts. At least, that's what _Cosmo_ said would happen.

"What are you doing?"

"Just let me do this." She straddled him, laying on top of him and nipping at his jawline. He was about to say something when she put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. Don't ruin this, please." Jeff had to admit he was taken aback by how forward she was. His head was muzzy from earlier, but he was slowly getting into the mood. He wrapped his arms around her, and started reciprocating her zeal.

She could smell him. His scent was intoxicating, and she was melting into him. She kissed down his neck but stopped in the middle. He was kissing her neck, she could feel his heart pounding, the heat of the blood pumping through him. The pulse was strong. And her head and heart started pounding.

She wanted a taste.

Just one little taste.

A quick nip, he would barely feel it.

* * *

Her breath was hot on his neck. And he couldn't say he'd never dreamed of this scenario. He had to admit this was an unexpected and welcome surprise, impropriety be damned. She was soft, molding against. Two soft mounds he'd imagined where pressed against his chest, and she'd somehow straddled him moments ago while wearing that sexy little pencil skirt. He didn't want to think about it, he just wanted her. The room was heating up, and she was devouring his neck and hitting all the right spots. Her hand had slid up to the back of his head, and she'd turned his neck to the side and continued her ministrations.

And then he felt two small pin pricks, wherein an infinitesimally small voice in the back of his mind registered something wrong.

INSERT LINE BREAK HERE!

She jumped off him, deftly slipping out of his embrace, aware of what she was about to do. Jeff raised his head and focused on her with half-lidded eyes.

"What's wrong?" The tall man was coming out of the daze she'd put him in through the sudden halt to their wonderful activity. He propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow.

"I can't do this…I'm so sorry, Jeff. I'm so sorry!" He sat up and looked at her, seeing her on the other side of the room where she was hiding her face, hair curtaining over her hands. "I just…" Crawling off the bed, he stepped towards her when she looked at him. Jeff attempted to wrap his arms around her, when she zipped across to the other side of the room with an unnatural speed. Winger slowly rounded the bed again. He wasn't one for giving hugs, but he had to get a hold of the younger woman in case she went into hysterics.

"Get away!" Her eyes had gone from shining blue to bright amber and her mascara was slightly ruined with the tears running down her face. He was only inches away when her face hardened though, and she hissed at him, baring two fangs framed by her perfect pale lips.

"What the hell…." He backed away slowly. She realized what she'd done, and a look of worry crossed her face as she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Jeff, please don't run away!" Annie voice was muffled crestfallen. She'd officially ruined the relationship she dreamed and desired to have.

He back-stepped further, the look of shock still registered on his face. It was too overwhelming for him, everything started spinning. And he fainted for the first time in his life.

* * *

The same four-poster bed, the same red curtains, the same soft pillow. He leaned up on his elbows again and looked around, searching for Annie…or whatever…no, Annie.

He felt calm and relaxed, the music keeping him peaceful despite his current surroundings. Shifting in the bed, he got to his feet and was glad she had de-socked him. The carpet under his bare toes was plush and soft, and something he hadn't felt since losing him condo three years ago. The door out of the bedroom was ajar, and he walked softly to the exit. This wasn't any hotel in the greater Greendale area. This was something different. Peeking through, he saw a slim form in a white evening robe. From the position she was sitting in, the curve of her breasts was ever present. And despite her having guests, she was free enough in her body and sexuality and would not care if her guests enjoyed a view.

"You're awake I see? Come now. We'll have a drink before I make dinner." The soft voice was Annie's. There was no doubt in the way it sang to him, sticking in his chest like honey and molasses. "Jeff, it's rude not to accept the hospitality of your host."

He pushed the door open into a lush sitting room, where Annie sat in a comfortable large cushion chair, an old hardcover book in her lap. Beside the chair sat an elegant wooden end table from an indeterminate time period with a deep scarlet wine in a crystal flute, which she daintily picked up and sipped from.

"This is…different…."

"So saying, 'I'm sure you have some questions,' would be a moot point."

"Yeah." Jeff's left brow arched up in bewilderment. "Maybe…start from the beginning?"

Annie closed the book on her lap and placed it next to her crystal flute. "Have a seat. This will take a bit of explaining." He did as she asked, sinking into a chair like hers. "Did you sleep well?"

"First time I've fainted." Jeff's grimace was not a reassuring facial cue. She couldn't blame him."

Annie stopped. "I'm a poor hostess. Would you like something to drink?"

Jeff nodded his head mechanically, taken aback by how casually she was acting; but she smiled at him, warming his heart like she always did. The brunette was up quickly, his eyes following her lithe form in the cream night robe. She was gone in one instant and back in the room the next; in one hand, a crystal tumbler, and the other a bottle with a silver stag and a three leafed design at the bottom which she presented to the taller man.

"I don't know where my head is this evening." She gave him the tumbler and bottle then returned to her own chair and poured another glass of wine. "When I saw that bottle, I knew you'd like it."

"You're trying to get me drunk?"

"I'm entertaining a guest in my home. Please, pour yourself a drink, and we will continue our conversation." Winger looked at the bottle closely, and his eyes widened further than they ever had in her presence.

"Thi…a…Dalmore Trinitas? Do you know how much this cost?"

"Yes, I've wanted to open it for a year now. But I've wanted to share it with someone; you in particular." He opened the bottle reverently. One of the most valuable whiskies in the world, and she had given it to him like it was a pen. They sat in silence; he drained the first tumbler despite knowing he should have savored the expensive whisky.

Pouring himself another, he leaned forward and rubbed his palms against the sleep encrusted eyes and the aching temples of his head. "So what was real?"

"What do you mean?"

"What the hell do you think I mean! You told me hours ago that you'd lied to all of us. Was anything over the last two and a half years real?"

"I-"

He held up a finger in warning. "And before you say it, your feelings about any of us don't count."

"That's not fair."

"I'd say with all things considered, that's the fairest thing that can be said. Who the hell are you Annie? Where does Annie end and the real you begin? Shit…what the hell are you?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I just…something in me wanted this conversation to go differently."

"This isn't some romantic comedy where everyone gets what they want in the end."

"So what are you going to do? Tell the group and have a card game about my membership?"

He sighed in frustration. "I don't know…this is a little much to dump on me. Little being a relative term."

"Then I want to say one thing. What I feel, for you and the group, is completely genuine. Every one of you are my family, and I've waited to see every one of you again. Most of all, I've always desired to see you again."

"I told you not to say that."

"I lied."

Silence. They both took another drink from their respective libations.

"Did you know that I was married once?"

Had he a mouth full of liquid, it would have been spat out in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"We married on All Saints Day. I wore a pure white wedding robe I made by hand. He wore a simple tunic and trousers with his knight's cloak. It was a beautiful fall day; the summer had lasted longer that year than before. It was very small ceremony. His father had left him and his mother years prior to our courtship. My own parents had forsaken me for not marrying their choice of suitor. We had so few friends, but we were happy, and that was all that mattered.

"But with happiness, there is always heartbreak. My husband was called to arms to defend the area from Ottoman aggression. He kept the land free of strife, but gave me months of sleepless nights in worry."

She watched the entranced man. How he reminded her so much of the man she loved. "At the same time, jealously clouded certain hearts in our village; a childhood friend of mine had married a knight. The knight was corrupt, but had the unending support of the king."

"King?"

The girl shrugged. "I know you're not a student of history, but Romania in that century was ruled by several kings in several fragmented kingdoms. My beloved Janos and I lived in a small village in Wallachia." Annie stared off into the proverbial distance, and murmured in a low voice. "You look so much like him Jeff." She sniffled softly, a few tears started escaping her eyes.

"What happened?"

"He died. And in my heart break, in a moment of weakness, I gave in to a dark impulse and it changed my life."

"Worse than Adderall?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Let me get this straight. You're a vampire."

"Technically speaking, it's more a form of porphyric hemophilia with a supernatural aspect; but yes, vampire would be appropriate."

He ticked off another finger. "And you've been lying to the whole group, pretending to be a person that probably doesn't even exis-"

"I'll stop you right there, Annie Edison was a real girl."

"Did you kill her?" He said off-handedly

Annie ground her teeth at the accusation. "No, two uncaring parents and an overdose of Adderall led to her taking her own life."

"She was real?"

"I met her Grandmother during the War. I promised to keep an eye on her family." She stopped, looking down. "I failed in that regard."

Jeff was silent. "So you took the place of the real Annie."

"She deserved a better legacy than what was given to her."

"That's kind of twisted."

"I'm not going to justify my actions to you of all people. You put on an act for the better part of eight years that you were a bona fide lawyer."

"There's a difference."

"Oh really? Do tell." She'd caught him, and he knew it. So he ignored her comment.

"So you're a vampire impersonating a young girl who took her own life in despair. How does the study group fit in?"

"When I stepped in the room, everyone who meant something to me in my lifetime sat in one room. For the first time in centuries, I felt at home with a group of people I now call family."

"I'm... not… following that one."

"Examples? I saved Troy's life in World War II. I met Abed in Romania in the early 18th Century. Shirley was one of the first black women to own a business in the North and Britta was a suffregiate. And Pierce is still a racist old man but a man who helped Thomas Jefferson push through the idea of exploring the Louisiana Purchase. Each one of these people looked and acted exactly the same as I remember when I met them. Each one I ended my friendship with because I don't age. So I don't think you can fault me for feeling like they're family. I don't question providence after so many centuries."

Jeff shook his head. "So we're all reincarnated from people you knew over the past…" He trailed off, unsure of her age.

She went red in embarrassment. "Five hundred eighty-four, give or take a month?"

"Fine, six hundred years; and then when shit happens and you're cornered, you just assume I'm going to take your story at face value."

"Jeff, I don't know what to believe. How easy do you think it was to see five people that were my friends and family over the course of history in one room, and that the sixth person was the spitting image and had the same qualities of the man I married and lost?"

"You realize that's a lot to swallow. What are you going to tell me next, you have Britta in the closet as your skanky concubine, or was only small parts of your story made up."

"Oh don't you _dare_ patronize me."

"I think I'm allowed a little latitude, because I'm basically your prisoner. Gonna take a bite?"

"One, you're not my prisoner." She was ticking off each point with a finger now. "Two, I don't feed on friends; and third, if I wanted to hurt you I'd do worse than what I said in my story on Halloween. There'd be much more than a _twist_ ending."

They were in each other's faces now, her looking up at him, he looking down into menacing amber eyes that didn't faze him. "I'd like to see you try."

Annie straightened up and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine!" Jeff noticed the heavy breathing, and the site was enjoyable as her chest rose and fell. The vampiress pulled the sides of her garment closed with a scrunched frown. "Follow me." She slinked backwards and moved towards a set of double doors, her robe flowing behind her. Despite their argument, despite being extremely disturbed by her past actions, he still couldn't help but admire her from behind. He hoped her "husband" realized he was a lucky man.

_Maybe I'm that lucky guy?_ Winger said to himself quietly. He reluctantly followed her into another room, the walls containing various paintings and surprisingly, two tapestries. She had stopped at one specific painting, depicting a woman in white and red carrying an odd looking sword in one hand, a silver chalice in her other. The background showed several small houses on fire, smoke billowing from them into dark clouds under snowcapped mountains. But the most disturbing image of all was the face of the woman. It was masked completely in white, with a red streak falling from the right eye, as if crying a tear of blood.

"I had Goya paint it in 1820. He was so masterful Jeff. They dispute the authenticity of the Black Paintings series, but I can tell you that they were painted by him. This was the seventh in the series of fifteen. I'd bore you with the details; but I know you, and you wouldn't care." He was transfixed on the masked woman, how the red splashed on the white dress as if splattered with blood. "Dear Francisco took some artistic liberties when he painted this. I held no chalice; I prefer drinking from the source, if you will."

He broke his gaze from the painting, and truly looked at the 'young' woman beside him. He didn't want to believe. He wanted this to be a dream and that Irony-Free Annie would wake him from a delusion on the couch of the study room.

"Do you want to know _why_ I chose this life and the gift? Because they killed you…anos and I wanted revenge. And when I could, I slaughtered them all. Everyone. I salted the earth, and then I hunted down any villager in the immediately area. So if you think I don't have the guts, then you are dead wrong."

"Okay…?"

"You think you know me so well? This is me." She pointed to the masked woman. "This is what I am. What you saw in the church was me asking forgiveness for my sins. I married my husband that day, and three years later, I murdered over a hundred people that night. Men, women, children, I didn't care. And it was magnificent; I'd never felt so good, I felt so alive. I gorged myself on their blood, and it was the greatest high I'd ever felt. Janos was a wonderful lover, but this was ecstasy on a whole new level.

"And then the guilt came crushing down on me. I woke up one morning to see children playing outside the inn I was staying in and I realized what I'd done. The pleading of fathers to spare their families, the screams of mothers, the cries of children; I heard everything in my head and I wanted die."

Jeff watched Annie hang her head.

"I…need a little time, okay?" Winger was horrified at what she'd just related. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw true sorrow and years of wisdom; a lady with a certain amount of ruthlessness and guilt.

"I understand." She turned and walked away from him and out of her art gallery, but turned before going through the doorway. "Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll never forget Janos, he will always have a place in my heart; but I fell in love with you. Not the visage of my dead husband, you. Bed head and ego and all." He chuckled as best he could. "Don't judge me too harshly for what I've done." He tried to nod as she padded away.

And then he saw the mask from the painting. The porcelain was bone white save for the same tear drop of red painted on it; above the mask were the curved weapon and a shorter blade with a blue sapphire at the end of the pommel.

He shivered.

Because he knew she was telling the whole truth.

* * *

Annie sat in her study, wide awake, reading from a medical journal she'd recently acquired. She fondly remembered the days they used leeches and trepanning mental patients. It amazed her how barbaric the processes and treatments had been reimagined through the inventions of the bone saw and CAT scan. Granted, they actually worked wonders now as opposed to hundreds of years ago, but the similarities were humorous nonetheless. Medicine had been a recent interest, and the integration of it into her current persona was genius in her opinion. She'd devoured the first half of _The Board Review_ series of texts in the first three and a half weeks of the summer vacation and winter break would probably the start of the second set.

Engrossed in her periodical, she was still able to listen to Jeff shuffling around in his room. He was pacing, which never surprised the woman. He was a natural pacer, and she'd seen it so many times in Janos when he was stressed or in serious contemplation. Sometimes he would be up all night, thinking and plotting strategy on a forthcoming battle. Other times, he would pace after coming from a town meeting, figuring out the problems that troubled the village.

She'd sat for an hour now, spending her time listening for him to open the door while flipping the pages of the journal she was half-reading now. At 3AM in the morning, she was still restless, and came to the sad realization that she wasn't going to be talking to him anymore this evening. Her vision was blurring, the reading material blurring in and out of focus. Annie wasn't tired. She needed more than a few hours of sleep; and right now, she was restless. And when she was restless, she exercised.

* * *

The indoor pool, adjacent to the garage and the kitchen, had been a luxury she afforded herself after graduating from the University of Colorado fifteen years ago. She drafted the plans and had it installed herself, and she was very proud of that project. It was an odd design and the builders had scratched their heads when they saw it; but when the large contract landed in their laps with a confidentiality clause, they leapt at it with reckless abandon. Walking into the expansive changing room (another luxury), she chose her favorite suit, disrobed, and dove into warm water.

* * *

He'd been restless when he went to bed after pacing the room for so long. It wasn't what she'd told him, but what she'd done over the course of the two years. He still didn't want to believe her story. But she'd literally changed in a heartbeat from adorable Annie to bloodthirsty…vampire, and Jeff wasn't sure he could accept it. Even Abed never picked up on her secret; or maybe he did and he wasn't saying in order to thicken the proverbial plot.

He was mentally exhausted when he'd stripped down to his underwear and crawled into what he imagined would be the most comfortable bed he'd ever sleep on. He could only dream of having sheets with a higher thread count than he could imagine. Jeff's head hit the pillow and he asleep within moments

His dreams were filled with paintball, Annie actually being a robot, and Abed with a felt beard. He dreamt of Britta as a ballet dancer, Pierce wearing a shark's head, Troy on a national comedy tour and Shirley baking. Jeff's dreams were always a jumbled mess, and he didn't like them in general. Sadly, the misfit group had been occupying these random images more and more over the past three months.

But then his mind rewound to afternoon, the shooting that caused his wonderful little trip to Blackout Land. The details were fuzzy. He was eyeing those lovely pancakes, something he normally denied himself save for one day a month. The pancakes in turn were watching Jeff with its maraschino cherry eyeballs. His dream-self forked up a piece of omelet, when the picture window's glass shattered. Dream-Annie jumped up from her seat, but jerked and shuddered as she was hit with several bullets. He grabbed her and brought her down to the floor. She wasn't breathing, her eyes were lifeless. He was covered in red, and he felt an unholy anger well up within him. Two black clothed figures jumped through the windows, weapons drawn. He looked up at them, unable to place their familiar faces. Both were laughing, both were waving their guns around while the other patrons of the diner applauded their attack. The man and woman (he was sure of their genders now) pointed their guns at him, and opened fire.

"ANNIE!"

Jeff jolted up in the bed. His surroundings were unfamiliar, but his mind quickly recognized his new surroundings. And their conversation from hours before flooded back into his mind. Annie the vampire; he shook his head in disbelief at the concept.

Any way he looked at it, he was awake now. He wouldn't be going back to sleep, and he honestly wanted to talk to Annie more. God knows he was still confused by it all. He threw on a pair of pants and set out to find her.

He didn't know what the size of this place was. For Annie to have something like this, let alone a bottle of Dalmore whisky and crystal wine flutes. The furniture screamed modernity and antiquity in a clever mix, the wet bar had liquors that almost made him faint. It was like she had read his mind, it was closer to what he had envisioned for his own future household. The final conclusion was she was filthy rich.

He wandered from room to room in her…whatever it was. It dawned on Jeff really didn't know where he was. He could be in Greendale still? Maybe Denver? He prayed it was _not_ under Dildopolis. There were no windows upon further introspection, and that made him wonder exactly _why_ there no windows. The tall man had seen her during the day, every day for the past four semesters. So the lack of windows wasn't from an intolerance of sunlight.

He stepped out of the kitchen, through a set of glass and wood double doors. The distinct smell of chlorine and the sound of splashing water hit him, and he looked inside.

_I'm underground._

It was a grotto. No, it was an underwater cave that literally shocked him by its scale and beauty. It was literally hewn out of the rock, and he would have been fooled save for the trademark blue of the bottom of the pool. On one side was an open alcove with a large Jacuzzi, while on the other side a waterfall that hid a second alcove. He couldn't help but marvel at how the light of the room reflected off the water and created a light show on the ceiling of the cave. The sconce lighting was low, enough to illuminate the cove.

And it was enough to illuminate Annie who was swimming towards him as if gliding under the water, enough to show her wearing very little in the way of a swimsuit.

* * *

Annie was at the shallow end of the pool when she surfaced to see the vague figure through the haze of water in front of her eyes. Her feet touched the bottom, and she stood up slowly, teasing him as she slowly stepped forward up the incline to the stairs. She wanted to have some fun. And he would never forget this moment; the whole act was something he would probably wowed him as a kid, and it was something she'd seen in the 1980's that made her laugh.

His breath caught in his mouth as show rose from the water. Her wet hair was clumping together, framing her face when her arms rose and her hands slicked her brunette hair back. Water glistened on pale skin in the light, and she sautered towards him. He saw red straps on delicate shoulders, holding a red bikini top covering her immaculate breasts. He'd seen her cleavage before. Everyone had during paintball. But this was completely different; this was now the true Annie Edison who was not afraid of her sexuality. And this was the most erotic tableau he had ever seen; a brunette Aphrodite sans claim shell and sea foam, a taut stomach, a red bikini bottom, and legs that were well toned while maintaining a feminine grace.

He wanted her, badly. He'd never seen a woman like this, even if it was a girl only two months ago he considered a kid. And now this kid was more woman than he would ever know. This woman had lived longer than he would ever imagine. She was the perfect specimen of woman. And she could be all his. Her lips parted ever so slightly. A sly look crossed her face as she looked directly into his eyes. The come-hither look she flashed him sent him wild, and he was going to have trouble hiding the erection.

"Do you see anything you like, Jeff?" She ran her hands through her hair again slowly, fingers sliding through again to smooth it out. Her baby blue eyes were smoldering with lust. It didn't matter now because he didn't care who she may have been, he only saw a mature Annie who was now untying the lower back strings of the red top she wore. "Cat got your tongue?"

The strings fell to the sides of her body, her breasts were unrestrained now yet barely covered by the pieces of fabric hanging form her neck; and she took three more paces, closing the distance between them. Her hips swayed with each step, and she was now within a foot of him. His mouth was agape, and she put a finger to his lips.

"Don't say anything Jeff." Annie ran the fingertip slowly from his lip to his neck then down his chest towards the waist band of his lounge pants. She closed the distance, pressing against him, full breasts covered by thin fabric against his bare chest. "I want you to know something. You look Janos, you act like Janos, but I know in the end you are not him. You're Jeff, and I fell in love with _you_." Then she closed the distance, pressing herself against him. "And I want you so badly right now."

She pushed a hand down under the waistband of his pants, and grabbed him. It was the most amazing sensation he'd ever had. Her grip was light yet slightly firm, and her hand was soft. Annie smirked, and squeezed ever so lightly.

"Huumfh!" That surprised him even more.

"Jeff, it's been five centuries since I've had a man who wasn't my Janos. I didn't want anyone else until now. So I'm going to give you one command, and I swear to God you better follow it."

His voice was husky, his erection pulsing in her small hand. "Are you sure?" She knew he wasn't asking out of concern for her virtue. And he was turned on so much that he tried to suppress a shudder of pleasure.

She let go of him and whispered.

"Fuck. Me."

Annie didn't mince words, Jeff didn't waste time. She ripped the belt off with ease, letting his pants fall to his ankles. Jeff stepped out of them quickly pounced on her. He grabbed her leg and hitched it up against him, letting her grind against his boxer enclosed manhood as he pushed against the red bikini bottoms. His lips locked on hers, his other hand palmed against her back. She wrapped both hands around his neck and wrapped her other leg around his waist. Jeff turned them around and made his way towards the wall, slamming her back against it. There was an oof that came from her lips, which were still occupied with his, which she bit and pulled back playfully. Letting go, the cunning smile returned and Annie's lusty gaze bored into his mind.

"We should get out of these wet clothes." He ground against her again, despite her suggestion and pushed against her covered delta of Venus. She gasped, and he thrusted against her again and again in what she felt was just the right spot. Her breathing quickened, and a feeling Annie hadn't felt in a long time awakened. She pushed back, gyrating her hips and a moan escaped her lips. A hand snaked up under the unfastened bikini top and softly squeezed her right breast, tweaking a nipple and thrusting against her again with his clothed organ.

It was too much; she burst.

She whimpered, she groaned, and she let out an animalistic howl. She had'nt felt this good for so long. And she wanted more, oh so much more. This was a simple bump and grind through clothing. Jeff could give her sexual highs that she'd not experienced in a long time. And Annie was _so_ ready for more. The need was indescribable, more urgent than the thirst she possessed. She unwrapped herself, and playfully grated her nails against his back. "Bed. Now." The vampiress was unsteady on her feet, and the tall man picked her up to take them wherever she wanted.

"Mine, or yours?"

She went limp, her head lolling back. "Dammit I don't care, I just want more."

"As you wish, Milady."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Interestingly enough, I caught _Twilight: Eclipse_ (due to the possibility of some sort of epic battle between giant wolves and vampries; totally not whelmed) and saw a female vampire going on a rampage in a wedding dress. Total coincidence, as I honestly have never read the Twilight series, and mock sparkly vampires openly. So yeah, don't read too much into it. Granted, Stephanie Meyer probably didn't come up with the premise of a vengeful bride either, but I'm covering my bases. That's all that shall be said on that topic.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Favorite decade."

"I loved the Fifties and Sixties. They had so much style back then."

"Thus the pencil skirts?" Jeff opined.

"Oh very much, but the world was so full of hope after World War II." Annie let out a contented sigh, then muttered. "Except for crap like the Iron Curtain coming down, and my home being forever closed off to me."

"I still get a kick you're from Transylvania-"

"Wallachia, there's a difference."

"Whatever."

"I can pull out a map. It's not like I don't have a mountain of them in the drawing room."

"You have a drawing room?" He let out a low whistle. "I bet its pink."

"Oh shut up."

"With pretty pink and scented candles."

"I get hungry easily." She smiled and nipped at the arm she was laying on.

"Kidding!"

They were laying in her bed, covers pulled up and bodies entwined. Occasionally, a stray hand would roam over the other's body. He was never good at pillow talk, but after the frantic and frankly amazing sex that had become love-making, they were both so tired that it was the only thing they could do.

"The 50's were a relief. The War hurt a lot of people both physically and emotionally."

"You were in a war?"

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, because Annie hadn't talked about this in decades. "I've lived through a lot of things. I lived with the Romani for so many years after slaughtering the village. I protected them, I raised several of the children I would watch die of old age. When there was trouble, the Blood Countess would visit the unsuspecting populous and make it clear that they were better off not hindering our kumpania."

"And you said that painter was a drama queen, Blood Countess?"

"Theatrics make all the difference in the world."

"I think Abed has a spare Batman costume."

"Shut up Jeff."

"C'mon, lycra, toys, handcuffs…it's kinda hot."

"I do bite on occasion, you're looking tasty."

"Buzzkill."

"It was penance for what I'd done, protecting them. And I readily paid it after a week of terror across the countryside looking for stragglers from that accursed village. In the 1700's, I got a bit of an itch to travel. I went up towards England, stopping in Switzerland to open a few bank accounts and found a love for their chocolate."

"I hate you."

Annie shrugged. "If you had my metabolism, you could do the same, eating anything you want and staying in the same if not better physical condition."

"Not listening." Jeff had noticed that she was more than a soft little girl. She'd had muscles he was unaware of, and an amazing stamina that matched her iron will to succeed.

"I came to America in the 1820's and went west after a few years on the East Coast. On the way, to Oregon, I stayed in Colorado and made a ton of money in the gold rush. But I fell in love with the mountains. It's why I moved here after the War. I wanted to regain that peace." She stopped for a moment, saying nothing. Jeff took her hand in his and kissed the top of it.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to-" Rubbing her arm, he tried to console her as best as he could, then intertwined his fingers with hers, holding him them against her naked hips. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and shrank into him for security.

"No, I need to talk about this. My therapist years ago told me that was the best way to get through things." She was sighing a lot this morning. Jeff could tell that this was difficult for her. "The world barely survived The First Great War. Germany was devastated, the Ottoman Empire was dismantled. The kumpania were displaced, but were able to stay in Romania. Then the Nazis took over. I was in France at the time when the Vichy government came to power, and it took me three months to escape."

He snorted. "You're a vampire, how could it take that long?"

"French Resistance needed help."

"Enough said."

"But I heard rumors of camps being set up. By 1940, the Jewish were already being rounded up. I tried to do what I could for them, but it was too much for one girl from the countryside. A thousand of me might have made a difference, but I could only save those I could. And then they started picking up French Romani, and I had to stop it. The Roma had been had been there for me, and I swore to protect them, even outside my family.

"The concentration camps were living nightmares. And I could do nothing…." She trailed off, looking away from him, with a small sniffle escaping her. "When I finally made it to Wallachia, most had been deported, but I knew where mine would hide when danger presented itself. And I retched when I found the mass grave of my kumpania. They were executed, point blank in some cases. It didn't matter their age." Annie felt Jeff pull her against himself. "I couldn't save them. I couldn't save my own family. I failed them all." Jeff held her close for minutes, hoping to stop any sobbing.

"Did you find the other groups?" She turned around in his arms, and looked him in the eyes. Annie shook her head, eyes watering.

"No. I searched government buildings and only found records of them taken to Germany." Tears dampened the sheets they lay on. "I killed again, Jeff. I slaughtered soldiers. And I hated every second of it. I hated myself afterwards."

"Did you save the prisoners?"

"As many as I could."

"Then you made a difference, and that's worth it. Not that I condone murder. But it was just." Jeff kissed her forehead. He was not sure where these words of wisdom were coming from. And these were some heady subjects they were broaching. But over the years, he learned to read people and it had served him well; and she needed to talk, desperately. If he had been in her situation, he certainly would. "You're always too hard on yourself."

She wiped some of the tears away, a weak smile on her face. "I think I have a good reason."

"I guessed that much." Jeff knew when to stop prying. She'd shared a lot tonight. He changed the topic to something safer. "So why don't you have an accent?"

"Jeff, I've changed my identity and nationalities hundreds of times over the years. I just adapted to the region of the world I moved to. It's a survival mechanism."

They were silent for a bit as she rolled in his arms again. Occasionally, she teased him with a wiggle from her behind against him and he would pepper kisses on her pale shoulder. "I liked Annie Edison from Greendale."

"My real name is Elisabeta Anabeth Vintila."

"I'd say beautiful, but I've emasculated myself more than enough for one day." They were both quiet for a time. "What was he like?" He wondered how close of an analog he was to the man.

She closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. "I don't know where to begin. Naturally, he was kind and courageous. When we were children he never liked getting his hands dirty until he found a worthy cause, then he had a one-track mind. Reminds me of someone I know."

"Flattery gets you everywhere with me."

"I know. It's your kryptonite and my secret weapon." He laughed, she wiggled her behind into him again in response. "No comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much."

"So what happened to the real Annie Edison? Troy remembers you." She said nothing for moments.

"Annie Edison went into rehab, that much of the story is true. She made some progress, but she was too far gone, and somehow slit her wrists after her parents disowned her." Now he was silent. "I failed my friend, her grandmother, but Annie deserved a second chance and it was the best way to honor Ana's request."

"So where do we go from here?"

"I kinda like staying in bed today and maybe tomorrow."

"You're insatiable. And you're going to drain me dry."

"The thought crossed my mind, but I don't want that perfect neck having teeth marks."

He adjusted himself, feeling himself harden. Pillow talk wasn't exactly an aphrodisiac, but a shapely rear end certainly changed things. "Who shot at us?"

"I've been trying to figure that out for days now. I need to research and investigate, but they obviously knew where we were going to be. I don't like that Jeff. I don't like that one bit. My life is about avoiding attention."

"What can I do to help?"

"Stay on your toes. And maybe be my boy toy." Suddenly she was on top of him, not that he was complaining.

He smirked as her baby blues flickered yellow for a millisecond. Jeff had memorized every little line and each little fleck. "Abed's going to have fun with this now, if he ever finds out."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, real life Couger Town."

"Shut up Winger."

* * *

They were in Greendale on Monday morning. The drive from the countryside had been relatively peaceful for him. She turned on a radio, turning to a classic rock station and pushing the gas pedal to the floor.

"Where's the hatchback?"

"I own a garage about a mile from Dildopolis. I store whatever I'm driving there, and trade out cars."

"You did have some nice ones to choose from."

"I happen to own stock in BMW and General Motors. Since I'm a very large shareholder, they occasionally send me a new car. I got a Camero last year, and it was so cool."

"It's the little things in life, eh?"

"That's how my life is Jeff. You live hundreds of years, you think you've seen it all. Just think about it. When I was little, we'd look up at the moon each night, and marvel at it. Less than five hundred years later, we sent a man up there and he walked on it. Every step forward in history, I see it. And it doesn't have to be monumental for me to be amazed."

"I bet you were on the Titanic."

She peered at him from the corner of her eye. "No, but I was booked for the return trip from New York, I wasn't pleased about that." They were silent for several minutes.

"That Ace of Hearts tattoo is pretty hot." Jeff's smirk was out in full force, his voice barely above a whisper, as if people were in the car with them.

She smiled slyly in return. "I won it in a poker game. I loved gambling back in the sixties. And even back then, Vegas would fulfill any dream you could pay for."

"It's official. I have absolutely no clue who you are anymore.

"Jeff, I'm still Annie. I may be a bit older, have a tiny bit more experience-"

"Tiny being a relative term." He interjected quickly with a raised eyebrow in response.

"…and have a tendency for ripping the throats of those who annoy me; at the core though, I'm the same girl that you know. This…this persona is really me, with some minor biographical changes."

"So I'm guessing we're not saying anything to the study group?"

"What do you think?"

"That I've got a helluva secret."

"I can kill you still."

"You're quick with a threat, any follow through on that?" Her hand shot out, the nail of her pinky barely inserted into the flesh of his neck. She held it steady for a moment then put her hand back on the steering wheel. "Point made."

"Don't forget it."

* * *

He suffered through class, finding that the homework he missed happened to still be due on the scheduled day. As much as he loved vacations, they were still a pain in the ass when he returned from them. Jeff was suffering again, for similar reasons on the 2nd of November. Only the enigma was solved and if anything, he knew Annie would tie him down to the desk in order to get him to study. Biology was no different. He just couldn't concentrate anymore.

Study Group was a subdued affair, as Britta had them fill out another set of multiple choice tests. The group knew they were only enabling Britta's complete misunderstanding of psychology, but doing more Scantron tests was better than studying.

"Why are we doing this again?" Pierce looked over to the younger blonde. "It's not like I have to take a test to tell you how virile I am."

"Because Britta's our friend." Annie replied with a huff. When they'd arrived at Greendale, the self-assured confident woman changed to the neurotic controlling girl with a perchance for purple pens. She'd said that she wore several masks. Apparently one of them was the girl he had fallen hard for. "And ew, Pierce." She added in afterthought.

"Don't we have Geneva Conventions regulating this?"

Abed didn't look up from his test. "Only for cruel and unusual torture."

"Which is why I'm asking."

"This is asking some really personal questions again, I'm not sure I should answer a few of these." Shirley looked up at the assembled group with her patented.

"I'm sure it's nothing out of the…" Annie found the question the woman next to her was hesitant about. "Okay, this _is_ really personal."

"Look, the sooner we get this done then the sooner she can go off and destroy psychology as a school of thought. We do this, we get her off our backs, and we move on." There was general consent amongst them. Quiet once more filled the room, save for the scratching of pencils on paper. He wasn't paying attention to the little bubbles he was filling in. He was wondering how she turned from sexy vampire to innocent school girl so quickly.

And then he felt her foot run up and down his leg.

_Minx_.

Abed looked up at Winger and shot at him with a pantomimed gun.

INSERT LINE BREAK HERE!

He was hesitant to call Annie and him a couple. He'd only had two actual relationships in the past three years; one of them kept secret and was about the hook-up than an actual dialogue. The other was Michelle Slater, and the ending of that travesty spoke for itself. During the week, they spent time at her apartment (he was no long worried about her safety) or at his cramped domicile. With the pretense of her having to study for everything compromised, Annie had poured that time and effort into making him work on his classes. She'd threatened him on a few occasions, one time actually bending his wrist to the limits of the joint. Jeff thoroughly got the point, and Annie kissed his wrist, as well as a lot more of him after the incident to make him feel better.

She, on the other hand, had spent the other half the time combing through the evidence reports that she claimed to "have fallen off the back of a truck." She refused to state that it was an unauthorized borrowing, and it was left unsaid. Jeff knew Annie could slip in and out of a secure building at will. She did interviews under the auspices of the intrepid reporter for the Greendale Gazette-Journal-Mirror, Annie had found that the diner was still under repairs from the attack. The manager was kind enough to let her to survey the damages and take pictures for further reference.

"How can you honestly know so much about ballistics?" Jeff asked, looking at the black and white photos she'd taken. Annie took another sheet of paper out of developer and shrugged her shoulders. She enjoyed the dark room, and was saddened that film was slowly being phased out of use by digital technologies. One more reason humanity had to slow down in her opinion.

"I have a lot of time on my hands. I sleep two, maybe three hours a night. You saw the library; I've got two more rooms like that in the basement. And I've read every one of them. In this case though, I've seen incendiary rounds up close. In the War, they were used to penetrate tank armor. The Resistance squad I led loved to take enemy vehicles."

"Joyriding tanks?"

"There's nothing more exhilarating than taking enemy armor behind their lines and destroying a target, then jumping out and running away…."

Jeff raised a brow. "That seriously worked?" She nodded with a demure smile. "You're going to get me killed, you know that?"

"If you're lucky. You don't want to know what could be worse."

"Annie, I had Chang living with me. It doesn't get much worse." He looked back at the picture. "So what would one of these do to you?"

Annie shivered, surprising him. "I don't want to think about it." The vampiress said quietly.

"This was a hit? Who'd honestly want you dead?"

"I haven't done anything significant since…well, it's been a long time. I don't know"

He stared at the photo of the blacked hole left in the wall of the diner. "Any enemies you know of? In almost six centuries, you were bound to piss someone off."

"Thus why I fly under the radar; and I don't make a new enemy every couple weeks like you do."

"Muscle head stapled the snow man to his own face. And maybe I'm just so awesome that enemies want me as…an enemy. That's not the point. We're talking about you here."

Annie chuckled at the thought. "You're in danger too, you know; guilt by association and all."

"Thanks for the reminder."

And she flashed the patented and trademarked Annie Smile. "You're more than welcome. To answer the question, I can't have any enemies, because they're all dead." She hung the photo and started work on another one. "I'm not scared you know.

"Never said you were- aw crap." Annie heard the sloshing of fixer fluid. "This stuff comes out, right?"

"Nope, the splash becomes permanent. I lost a nice cardigan to fixer and stop fluids years ago. It's why I wear an apron when I do this."

"Where's my apron." She looked back at him with a clever smirk.

"You never asked for one."

* * *

They found themselves at her "place" on the weekend. The first time he'd gotten a look at her home, it was steel warehouse set against the side of a mountain. It was so unassuming, so overlooked. But inside, the expansive garage housed several cars and at least two motorcycles. Her home, he'd found out, was carved out of one of the nearby mountains. It was a bit of a drive from Greendale, but the luxury and comfort was worth it.

"You still haven't told me why you don't have windows."

"I have windows. They're built into the walls and hidden from view on the outside. They're just not in every room." She shrugged her shoulders as they went through the entry way into the living area. "I also have two monitors in those rooms that are hooked to cameras outside. It's not completely natural, but there is give and take with where I live."

"I thought vampires hated the sun."

"We don't. We lose a little strength, get a little thirstier, but that's all. I'm sorry to report that I do _not_ sparkle. But I love sunbathing on the Riviera. We'll go there next summer, you'll love it."

He stopped in his tracks. "We?" She turned to look at the taller man.

"Well…yeah?" Her brow crinkled and her eyes widened.

"Oh c'mon! Don't pull out the eyes, please!"

Her lips quivered, intentionally she pulled out her patented Disney face. "But…." Jeff tried to look away. Her sad face and crocodile tears were too strong, and he was right in saying it was like The Ark of the Covenant.

"You're not playing fair." He threw up his hands and tried walking past her. She sidestepped into his path. "Annie, I…just…you know how I am. I'm not good at the whole couple thing. Look at what happened with Michelle, and after Britta. You know how I get."

Annie shook her head. "Look at me." She changed her expression back to her Annie face, a serious yet innocent look. "I'm not going to leave you like Michelle, and I want more than what you had with Britta. I love you Jeff, and I'm not going anywhere." He stood looking down at woman in front of him. "Make yourself at home. I have some business I need to take care of, and if you're still grumpy then we'll talk." The vampiress turned and walked off towards her office, leaving him near the entryway, looking dumbstruck.

Jeff was reeling. The last week had been awkward albeit amusing. Dating Annie was akin to dating two very different women. They shared the same appearance and the base traits, but their outlooks were completely different. Annie was upbeat and uptight. Elisabeta (how he differentiated) was calmer and less worried about what she said and did. Unfortunately, both were prone to emotional outbursts that tended to either surprise him or hurt him.

* * *

She sat in her office at her desk, surrounded by monitors of information which she absorbed with practiced ease. Despite the advanced technology, she still wrote on a scratch pad with a purple pen instead of the newer tablet computers. She loved the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. So many advancements in writing utensils, and gel grips truly were a marvel. A flashing on one of the monitors caught her attention, signaling another drop in the share price of a once prestigious business. Annie hmphed and wrote herself another note about firing one of her most promising stock brokers she had kept on retainer for a year now. Three clicks later and she dumped the stock and the funds into her Swiss account.

Business bored her. It always had, but she had learned after the crash in 1929 that it would be better to manage your assets with a select group of advisors than letting large firms take control. In an effort to understand as much as she could, she took an economics major and graduated magna cum laude at Columbia Business School in the thirties, before she was summoned to Europe. She dragged herself to class on most mornings, and was still proud of her patience in the face of the doldrums. The terminal on her right pinged, and a window appeared with the video of her guest outside the door. Pressing a button under the desk, Jeff sauntered in and stood in front of her. Looking around the office, he whistled at the impressiveness of her financial headquarters.

"So when did you make your first billion?"

Annie kept her eyes on the screens. "I never kept track. Most of my monies involved are spread out over a hundred different programs and charities around the world. I have high-level business advisors that handle it. I only oversee a small facet of it."

"Are we a couple?" He blurted out.

"I don't know. I want to be."

"I'm okay with the 'we' stuff, but for both our sakes, we should take it slow."

"Agreed."

"So what did your investigation turn up anyway? I didn't see you much on Thursday."

"I talked to a few contacts I made on the Black Market-"

"_You_ have Black Market contacts."

Annie smiled. "Yup. Sadly, I've been informed that you can buy this ammunition on the internet. The cartridges were gone by the time I got to the diner. So I can't get a fingerprint."

"You have _way_ too much time on your hands." Jeff sat in one of the chairs in the corner of the room, watching her work away. "Okay, so we have no leads, and we're running out of clues, Nancy Drew." He hung his head in shame. "And no rhyme was intended."

"Was the 'we' intended?"

"I…guess so- I hate when you do that."

She turned towards him with her sly grin. "But that's what you love about me." He grunted. "What can I do to get your mind off this?"

"Assure me you have no enemies?"

"I'm pretty sure. Anyone of consequence, I killed years ago." He shivered at the cold voice.

"You don't by chance see the problem with how callous you are with killing."

She shook her head. "No. It's what's kept me alive so far." Annie shook her head. "I have regrets Jeff, that's what you saw at the church that day. On All Saint's Day, I slaughtered a village and burnt it to ashes. And when it was over, when I felt that I'd had my revenge, I realized that I'd become the monster."

"You're not a monster anymore." Jeff stated. He watched the woman who was laying her soul bare.

"I still seek penance Jeff. I will for years to come. You don't know history, but the Catholic Church in my village in those days was focused on scaring you into your faith. None were forgiven without the local priest's blessing. That's how we were all raised. Then a monk in Germany stood up to Rome. That monk taught me so much. I learned that maybe Janos wasn't damned to Hell. Maybe I wasn't a monster. I've come to terms with this." He was silent. There was nothing that could be said. She turned back to the monitors and went back to her work. Pausing, Annie looked at him with a smile. "I'm sorry."

"We're too serious for our own good."

"I know. There's a small gym off from the pool. I'm going to be here for a bit, and the exercise will do you some good." He looked at her for a moment, and then quietly stepped out of the room. Annie was right. It would help.

* * *

He felt refreshed. Exercise was a stress reliever, and while the physical benefits were evident, it gave him clarity he often lacked. And once again, she proved how amazing she could be when he saw the amount of equipment she kept. Annie, true to form, had thought of everything which included a set of gym clothes and towel. Now, he was hot and sweaty and tired yet refreshed and energized. The shower was even more amazing, relaxing, and enough to loosen him up.

Annie wasn't in her office after he'd thrown the workout clothes in the washer. She wasn't in the sitting room, or his room (to his disappointment); but she'd left a note with the dress suit she wanted him to wear that evening.

"I'm whipped." He mumbled to himself as he straightened the tie and walked towards the sitting room where she was reading another hardcover near a shelf. Jeff quickly rubbed his eyes, watching the woman who wore what he considered a vintage little black dress. He had shucked them off quite a few women in his day, but she was certainly not kidding about her love of the sixties. She might as well have a string of pearls and a tiara the way she looked.

"Where's the cigarette holder Holly?"

"I gave up smoking in 1823. By then, the fad has passed in my eyes. Fine wines on the other hand _never_ go out of style." She looked him up and down. His suit from Abed's birthday party left quite the impression on her. "I thought we'd go out tonight. There's a town not far from here that has some of the best Italian this side of the Atlantic."

"And you would know…."

Annie blushed. "Guilty pleasure. Would you mind if I drove?"

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" She looked over her shoulder and gave him a coy smile.

"Little innocent old me?"

He regretted it.

* * *

"What don't you own?" It was a quiet restaurant in a small suburb of Denver. The combination of soft talking, expensive wine, and low lighting was making Jeff a bit of a romantic. A feeling he wasn't completely used to, but with Annie he would make an exception. She looked up from her penne kept her voice low.

"I'm not Richy Rich, Jeff. I just happened on some good investments over the years. I keep what I need to live comfortably and put the rest in safe ventures with few risks. And when I take a risk, I give it as much support as I can before I pull the plug."

"I still don't get why you're at Greendale."

"I will always owe it to the real Annie Edison to leave her a proper legacy. I wish every day that she was alive and well. I was too late though."

Jeff nodded, taking another bite of the chicken dish. It was a carbohydrate day for him; noodles and bread were on his approved list. "You blame yourself too much."

"Catholic guilt. It's how I was raised; it's how I will always be. Leopards can't change their spots."

"How long do you plan on staying Annie Edison though?" His date sighed, placing her fork down and taking a long sip of her wine.

"I don't know. Conventional wisdom says ten to fifteen years. After that, I will have to move on." She paused, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. "I can't help it Jeff. I can't change my looks. I don't grow old, and I can't draw attention."

"Sounds lonely."

"It is."

"What about us?" Annie was quiet again for several moments.

"Jeff, I want so much for us. I've dreamt for so many years that I'd find Janos that I lost perspective. When we met, I saw a lot of him in you, but I found out that you're your own person. That's the man I feel in love with. Janos was special to me, but you're just as special." She sniffled. "You're making me cry."

"Crocodile tears."

"Jerk." The woman smiled, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "Would you come with? When I move on from here?"

Now he was silent. "The only thing I had planned in the future was my reservation at Mortie's Steak House."

"I'm not asking you leave your life behind."

He sighed nosily. "Yet you're saying that with a straight face."

"And you don't think I've had a hard time running away every time I make friends?"

"I didn't say that, and no, it wasn't implied. I can understand how it would be a hard life…."

Annie crossed her arms, giving him an unimpressed expression. "Oh do you now?"

"Yeah. It's not like I had a large group of friends I could party with. You've met a few of them. Real caring bunch of individuals, especially Alan."

"And you're comparing that to five centuries of making and leaving friends."

"Well, when you put it that way…." He looked down, trying to find some out from the mess he'd just wandered into, when it struck him about one of the ingredients. "Garlic?"

"Wonderful for the heart and stomach, not that cancer is a big worry in my life. Another perpetuated myth. I love garlic bread. I cook with it a lot."

"Silver?"

"That's for werewolves, and no, they don't exist. I am slightly allergic to it though, gives me a rash. I love gold and platinum though. So it wouldn't hurt to give me some for my birthday." She rested her chin on a bridge made with dainty little hands on upright forearms. "So what _did_ you get me for my birthday to make up for that little gaffe?" His silverware clattered on the plate, and he wanted to beat his head against it as well.

* * *

It was cold when they stepped out of small, intimate restaurant. His chivalry required him to give her his coat. She gracefully declined but took it anyway. It was the custom of the day and age, after all. Their breath was visible in the air on this chilly November evening. And it was a brisk walk to the car. They'd finished the third bottle of wine around the closing time of the restaurant and then some; all the while they played twenty questions about each other, even skimming the surface of his father issues.

They weren't quite stumbling out into the lot, but they were enjoying a nice buzz. And he wasn't necessarily using her to keep himself steady, but she was definitely helpful in that regard

The three cars in the lot were parked yards from each other, two street lights giving a modicum of light to the desolate area. She was fumbling with retrieving the keys from her small purse when her ears perked up to a suspicious sound. Annie stopped, turned towards Jeff and shook off his jacket.

"Stop." She whispered. "I want you to stay low, and if anything happens, run."

Brow twisted in confusion, Jeff held his coat with a dumbstruck expression. "Excuse me?" Her hands went to the slit in her dress and ripped it upwards. Kicking off her shoes, she closed her eyes and listened for the movement again.

"Shh!" He was silent, breathing as lightly as possible. Jeff strained to hear what she was hearing. There was nothing, save for the light rustling of dead leaves on the concrete, blown around by small cyclones of wind. Jeff's eyes shifted towards Annie, when she blurred out of sight. Shaking his head to clear it, he heard a meaty, crunching sound; a figure in dark clothing slumped over in front of him. His face was covered, green glowing eyes peered at him, and the figure was struggling to breathe. Jeff leaned down towards the individual and was repulsed, as half the skull was caved in and an arm was distended.

He heard a growling sound and Annie appeared again; fangs bared, eyes yellow, she growled again. "Cowards!" She was feral, stalking the lot, waiting for prey. Jeff ducked when he heard the woof of a small nitrogen canister attached to a taser, shooting two barbed electrodes at her. She dodge them gracefully and then launched herself at the attacker. The man, from what Jeff could tell, was not quick enough to stop the vampiress. She rammed into him, throwing him to the ground with her on top. He saw Annie grasp the man's neck and yank upwards with a ripping sound. Her white opera gloves were covered in gore as she threw the chunk of her assailant's throat. She jumped off him and searched for her next target, her victim struggling to breathe, which came out as a horrible gurgle.

The third attacker turned and ran, but Annie was in front of the individual within the first five steps. She gripped the person neck, raising the aggressor up in the air, and spoke very slowly.

"Who sent you?" The figure was struggling, hands clenching around the wrist Annie's iron grip, attempting to break loose. The smaller woman shook the attacker. "I won't ask again." Annie…no…Elisbeta smacked the woman with a backhand slap that threw her foe to the ground.

The person was staggered, laying on the pavement and balled their self into the fetal position. Whimpering could be heard through the black mask along with heavy breathing. She stood over the figure then knelt and ripped the mask and goggles off the person. Red hair spilled out, revealing a woman's with semi-soft features and a large bruise over half her face. Annie lean down and grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and pulled her up again so she was face to face with the assailant now.

"I told you I wouldn't ask again."

"I…don't know!"

"I don't _always_ play with my food, but you do look rather tasty. Red heads are so succulent."

"Please! Reason with her!" The woman tried to look at Jeff for leniency.

"Annie…."

"You think _he's_ going to help you?"

There was a sharp crack, and the attacker's forearm was bent at an odd angle and bone was sticking out. The woman cried out again while Elisabeta smiled with pleasure. Jeff heard giggling from his girlfriend (he still was not sure how to define their relationship status) and it chilled him to the bone.

"Ready to die?" The vampiress' hand grabbed the woman's throat again and squeezed.

"Annie!" He was frightened now. She was going too far. It was one thing for him to hear about what she did and had done, but the difference between that and her current behavior was shocking. She looked back at Jeff, her eyes glowing amber, he fangs bared. Elisabeta hissed at him, then turned her attention back to her victim. She watched the crying woman for a moment and changed her mind. Squeezing her neck by the near the jugular, the woman passed out. The smaller woman threw the black clothed woman near the car then went towards another of the now dead attackers.

"Help me load them in the trunk."

"What?"

"Forget it. Find the taser, reel the electrodes and wires in, and put them in the trunk. If you want a simpler task, then just stand there and act like a fucking moron." She never spoke like this. This…woman in front of him was not the girl he knew. She was angry, enraged, uncaring. Under the sweet candy coating and romanticism lay a cold blooded killer.

Elisabeta easily, and literally, threw the corpse and two unconscious commandos in the trunk of the car then looked for any further incriminating evidence. Seeing none, she picked up the stun gun that Jeff hadn't touched and threw it in back as well. Her black dress and white gloves were stained an indeterminate color in the light of the street lamps. The vampire retracted her fangs, though her yellow eyes were still in full effect.

"Get in the car, _now_." He did as she said, buckling in and horribly confused. She shifted the vehicle into drive and quickly drove off until she they were speeding down the rural wooden road they'd come in on. Jeff wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to understand what was going on and why she was so callous. And he thought he knew her state of mind, he thought he knew her. "I know what you're thinking." She said in a low voice. Her eyes were on the road, she didn't even turn her head.

"I don't know what to think."

She gave out an exhausted sigh. "What I did, I did to protect you. I had seconds to make a decision, and I erred on the side of caution."

"I understand."

The tires lost several inches of rubber as the car screeched to a halt. "No Jeff, you don't understand. You won't understand for a long time why I did what I did tonight."

"Make me understand, because I don't know what I just saw." Annie sighed and put her foot back on the accelerator pedal. It was a slower pace now, yet the trees on the side of the road still blurred passed them.

"I don't like killing Jeff. I abhor it. I've done more than my share over the years. But I will protect myself and you and the study group if anyone attacks. You're my family. You're the only family I have."

"And the bodies in back?"

"No evidence can be left. If someone found out about that fight, we would be implicated. Even if those were trained commandos." She guffawed. "Authorities would ask questions: who killed them, why didn't they just subdue the victims, who could have the training to do such damage to these people." He was silent, staring straight ahead when he suddenly lost control.

"Pull over."

"Why?"

"Just pull over!" She slowed the car to a crawl, and then stopped, unlocking the doors at the same time. He fell out of his seat and retched up the contents of his stomach onto the damp, leaf-covered ground. Jeff couldn't stop; the liquor, the food, everything came up. Then he was empty, only bile and saliva. He was still queasy but he crawled back into the car with barely enough energy to buckle the seat belt.

She showed no emotion, only looked at him and spoke softly. "Feel better?" He shook his head. "Let me know if anything is coming up again, and I'll stop the car."

INSERT LINE BREAK HERE!

He had no energy, he felt exhausted and sickened by everything including the thought of food or what she had done earlier this evening. Annie had backed into the Quonset hut garage and parked near a freight elevator he hadn't seen until tonight.

"Go in and rest. I'll be a bit."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm dumping two corpses. The girl may live through this experience, if she tells me everything I want to know."

"Annie…."

"I have a first aid kit in the kitchen. Grab some water and aspirin, and relax." He nodded, unsure what else to do. He shuffled towards the entrance to the domicile. "Jeff?" Her guest turned to look at her. "I know this has been a horrible experience, but believe me when I say this isn't the real me."

Winger gave her a blank look, nodded, and entered the living quarters.

She turned back to the task at hand.

There was work to do.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jeff barely made it to the large bed before his legs gave out on him. He'd neglected to hang the suit pants, or the shirt, or the tie. They lay strewn on the floor around the bed. He was too tired to care, too tired to want to care, too tired to think about anything. Sleep came within seconds, and he let out the first relaxed sigh since the attack.

It was the sleep of the dead; dreams of swirled reds, blues, and greens flowed around him. There were no nothing save for the color. At one point, he thought he felt something or someone wrap around him and hug against his body. But Jeff was too tired to care.

Eyes barely opened, Winger searched for some indication of what time it was. Somehow over the course of his slumber, a blanket had found its way on him, covering him for the coolness of the room. He felt warmth against his back, and the tall man slowly turned in bed, finding a mass of hair and alabaster skin. Annie mewed softly when he moved, snuggling further against him and into his chest. His bladder was urging him to make a trip, despite how warm and comfortable he was.

Extricating himself as slowly as possible, he slid out of the large bed onto the wonderfully cushioned rug and took care of his immediate needs. His eyes were starting their adjustment to the light when he looked in the mirror and realized he wasn't nearly the man he'd been a month ago. He was supposed to be the worldly Casanova and she the naïve school girl. The role reversal was baffling, and this was one of the few times he was unsure what he could do to save his ego from going insane.

_What I did, I did to protect you._ Jeff was amazed at how quickly and handily she'd dispatched the attackers; at the same time, shocked by the brutality of her defense. He shook his head and splashed water on his face, noting it was time to shave his scruff back to the perfect length when his self-conscious side suddenly looked any punctures in his neck.

"I'm sure you taste wonderful, but I wouldn't do it without your permission." She was behind him, and he strived not to jerk in surprise. "I couldn't get you to come back to bed for another hour or two, can I?" Annie yawned loudly, stretching her arms and rising on her tip toes.

"What time is it?" His voice muffled from the towel he was using to finish drying his face off and hiding the shock from her sudden appearence.

"Eleven in the morning. You snore."

"Mind if I go for a jog first?" She nodded sleepily, pressing herself against his back. He felt two hard tips; and he wanted to see them up close, nibble on them. But he wasn't ready for that yet, not without some explanations or reassurances. "I need a run. Go on back to bed." Annie wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his back. He felt the silky hair, the warm softness of her cheek against the bare skin on his back.

* * *

When Jeff Winger ran, he had no destination in mind until it was time to return to his small apartment to get ready for classes or a date. When he ran, he was free from the constraints of his life. When he ran, he was just Jeff Winger, free of the childhood that haunted him and had shaped so much of his life.

The large bedroom she'd gifted him was slowing being stocked with clothes. He was amazed once more that she had been picking clothing in his size and preference, and the temperature was warm enough that he didn't need any normal alterations to his running outfit save a pair of pants.

The trail was a challenge; it was loose gravel with inclines that tested his endurance. The first mile was always the toughest, after that the muscles stopped burning and his mind went into auto-pilot. He was avoiding the inevitable talk he was about to have with Annie later today. He was avoiding what he was going to say to her, what she would say to him. Winger didn't want to judge her; there was the feeling in his heart that just wouldn't let him. But what she'd done last night was nearly reprehensible.

But now his nipples were chafing.

She seemed to remember everything about him. His favorite clothes, food, likes, dislikes; but she'd forgotten the nipple guards.

Mile three over the terrain was enough for him to call it quits for the day. She had a well maintained trail, but his curiosity was getting to him about that last rise. He was tired, sweating, and the breeze was not helping him at the moment. But there was something on top of that hill that beckoned to him. Twenty yards between him and the top and his muscles were straining; they weren't used to quick changes due to his being used to running flat streets with no hills, so they had no compunctions against complaining.

* * *

He hit the miniature plateau at the top of the hill. He wasn't catching his breath very well, and his muscles ached more than they ever had. But the view was amazing. The snow capped mountains west of him were painted on a clear blue sky and to the east he could make out the faint shape of the skyscrapers of Denver. Annie had a house built into the large bluff where many would have it built on top of it. To make up for that, she'd put some large stones together for seating around a fire pit. But something caught his attention to the right of the circle; it was a polished stone plinth looking over the valley and base of the mountains. He sat on one of the granite benches, his breath returning to him now, and the low breeze cooling him. It was during this rest that he finally got a good look at the plinth's side, reading the names save for two that were unfamiliar to him. He saw Janos and Elisabeta's name carved in there, followed by four others with a year behind each one. The oldest were 1448, and newest was 1972.

It was the study group, he realized; or more to the point, the deaths of her friends over the span of centuries, including herself. Perhaps it was when she lost her innocence, or when she was turned. Annie (or maybe Elisabeta, he was not sure who she was anymore) looked at herself as a lost soul; the vivacious girl he was starting to really love thought of herself as being dead.

Jeff started thinking about Annie's past though, and what she'd gone through. How long had she hid away those same feelings for a husband dead well over five hundred years? How had Annie Edison come to terms with what she was? Did she know what she was getting herself into that night under the willow? Was she really Annie anymore? She'd poured her soul out to him over the course of the month, but he was realizing now that there were so many unanswered questions about her life and the subsequent decisions.

Of all the times she had disappeared and reappeared, he wanted her now. Yet in the same instance Jeff honestly did not know what he wanted. He had fought the growing attraction since the debate. He slept with Britta to prevent such feelings, and when that fell through, he tried to shut off those feelings and convince himself there was absolutely nothing there. There was no "Annie of it all."

He sat in front of the plinth, the memorial, for several minutes. What had he gotten himself into? Vampires didn't exist in the real world. They were fictional creations used to sell horrible vampire novels about the undead that sparkled in the sunlight or seduced Winona Ryder. And he wasn't supposed to fall in love…no, he wasn't supposed to lust after a "just in her twenty school girl with a perky smile and perkier breasts."

He couldn't run away. That would require too much explaining to her and the study group; part of him didn't want to run. With this new Annie, there was action and romance and excitement, and perhaps some adventure. Part of him, upon realization of what could be, didn't want to go back to the doldrums of Greendale or being a lawyer for that matter. With Annie, he could go anywhere with her or do anything.

"Conflicted?" There she was, almost like clockwork.

Jeff looked up at the woman, chuckling. "Me? Conflicted?"

"It doesn't take a mind reader. And you're usually back from a run after twenty minutes." He gave her his classic bewildered look. Annie sat down next to him on the makeshift bench and turned her head, soft eyes concerned about him. "Do you want to talk about last night?"

"I don't know. Did I really see you kill two people?"

She nodded. "You did."

"And what about the redhead?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, I haven't had a redhead in a long time." Annie said with a daring smile that heated his blood. "I'm kidding."

"Wow. Okay. Little macabre."

"I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet."

"I just have trouble seeing you doing what you've done. You're…you're Annie; you like purple pens and cardigans and...hell I don't know what to think anymore."

"Then tell me what you feel."

"I hate to admit this but I'm a little scared…. I don't know, what do you expect me to feel?"

"I thought horrified, scared and disgusted." She sighed, slumping down. "Jeff, I know I'm…different. I know this…is a…screwed up situation. So I understand if you want to walk away." Neither of them said anything to each other for a time. Annie was right, he thought; he was horrified about what she'd done last night. He'd never seen an actual person die, let alone a person's neck being ripped out in street fight against actual commandos. And he didn't want to believe that she was capable of such things. He remembered what she'd told him though. She did it to protect him, and she'd certainly delivered on that promise. And over the past several weeks, he'd come to respect her strength and compassion despite a world that had chewed her up and spit her out.

The fact of the matter was he couldn't leave her now. He was in love, though he'd never admit it. It was burgeoning, and it was something he'd felt starting to grow in him at one other time.

"What if I don't walk away?"

"Then we'll need to accept each other for who we are: I'm a bloodsucker who treats people as a food source and you're an amoral lawyer who throws people under the train to get what you want. I'd say we're the perfect couple."

"You flatter me so." He deadpanned.

"In all seriousness, I do want this to happen. But you may have to accept certain aspects of my life that you didn't have to with other woman."

"Will you give me time to come to terms?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to be lunch?"

"Certainly not…." She shrugged. "Though I bet I could make it pleasurable."

He was quiet for moments. It was dawning on him that there might be something salvageable with this woman sitting beside him. "I need to know a few things then."

Annie shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. "Fire away. We're not going anywhere…today."

"Why is your name on this thing?"

"Because Elisabeta is dead."

"No, she isn't."

"Please don't make me argue this." She whined.

"Full disclosure, or I tell Pierce you want to invest in Hawthorne Wipes."

Annie's eyes widened in mock outrage. "You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"God I hate you sometimes. Elisabeta died years ago. She died when they took her innocence and abused her to the breaking point, and still killed Janos."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Annie. I've used so many names over the years. I've come back to Anne though. My middle name, Anabeth, is the inspiration. Annie is fine at this time. It…it won't change."

"I like it." He said quietly. "You're going to have to kill again, aren't you." It wasn't a question, more a statement. Jeff already knew the answer.

"If I have to, if push comes to shove. When I have to, I'll protect the lives of myself and my friends and family. I never kill innocents; I haven't made that mistake since the village. But any threat to me and mine will be dealt with."

"Understood."

She took a deep breath. "I know we can make this work Jeff. But you'd going to have to give me some reassurances."

"What could I possibly give you?"

"Sex."

"Well, that's going be a tough one." She slapped his shoulder.

"I want your promise that you'll finish your time at Greendale."

"Annie…" He stretched her name out with a whine behind it.

"It's not negotiable. Not if you ever want to see the Ace of Hearts in a red bikini again."

"You're killing me Edison."

"They do call it 'the little death.'"

"Wow, that was original."

"I'll try harder next time. No, no more being lazy Jeff. I'll…incentivize what I can, but in the end, you need to get serious about your education."

"Fine, you win."

"In the end, I always do." It was his turn to roll his eyes at her self-contented smile.

"You've got a high opinion of yourself. My turn?" She nodded in ascent. "I help you find the people who have been attacking us-"

"No."

"Yes, Annie. This one is my non-negotiable. They tried to kill me too, you know."

"I don't want you hurt."

"I don't care."

"You are insufferable."

"And she's pulling out the big words."

She took a few moments, he could see her arguing with herself. "You promise to follow everything I say when it comes to a fight."

"I promise."

"No Jeff, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid. _Promise_."

"I promise."

"Okay. What else?"

"Move out of Dildopolis."

"I know. I'm moving in with you into your apartment."

"Come again?"

"Later Jeff. I'm your protector now. You want to live dangerously then you announce that we're a couple and have been hiding it for a while."

He let out a rather large breath. "You're going to insist on this, aren't you?"

"You always said I needed to move out of that neighborhood. And honestly, I really need to. Even I have standards."

Now he was struggling internally. "I…don…what am I getting myself into?"

The mischevious smile appeared again. "Me."

"Nympho much?"

"Jeff, it's been five centuries since I've had a lover. I can have a dirty mind on occasion. What you just said…well…."

"How can you live for so long and not have done _anything_?"

Leaning against him, he found that she was warm, and he didn't mind the body heat on semi-cool day. "What I did in my attempts to save Janos scarred me for a very, _very_long time, and I wanted nothing to do with sex."

"What changed?"

"You. The minute I saw you in Spanish class the first day, I did everything I could to be near you without seeming too creepy. I had a cover story, with the original Annie's obsession with Troy. But I wanted you. God I yearned for your touch again…for his touch; because at first, you were Janos to me. But then I got to know Jeff Winger. You looked like him, you acted like him when we first truly met, and like him you have so much potential."

He shook his head. "We can't have a simple conversation anymore, can we?" Annie smiled and nodded.

"We can, but we have to get through a lot of the clutter. Give it fifteen years."

"I hate you."

"I hate you too." She smiled.

* * *

"So was it commandoes or ninjas?"

"Commandoes, they didn't have the training to be lucky enough to lick the boots of a ninja."

"And you would know?"

Her shoulders shrugged, going back to the wok. "I plead the Fifth Amendment."

"Do you even have a legal status here?" She was a good cook, and she'd taught him quite a bit in their time together. He was desperate to order out this evening, but she reminded him that the nearest Thai restaurant was ten miles way and they didn't deliver this far out.

She snorted. "With enough money, you can get whatever you need."

"How about a new Lexus?"

"Don't press your luck. No, these jokers were using stun guns and stun batons. They wanted prisoners, so they were more likely dressed up to intimidate us into following their orders." She growled under her breath. "I am not amused by this."

"Calm down there little lady."

"This _is_ me being calm."

"Would electricity hurt you?"

"Probably. It'd take more than one zap though. But it's all the same. Loss of muscle control, a lot probably pain. I don't particularly like the idea of pain."

"Does anyone?"

"I've met a few. Wonderful people they were."

"I sense sarcasm."

"I would hope so; I was laying it on pretty thick."

"So what did happen to the redhead?"

"She died, blood loss."

The blasé comment wasn't lost on him. "Do we need to worry about the Geneva Conventions?"

"I'm not human Jeff. I don't have to worry about that." She semi-whispered in shame; and his fingers touched her chin and raised her head to his full-on glare.

"You're more human than Pierce."

Her trademark bashful gesture was in full effect. "Well, I'm also older, wiser, non-racist, and have a great rack."

"Back on topic." He couldn't believe he just said that, with the partially buttoned blouse she wore at the moment. "What do we do now?"

"I've sent fingerprints to a friend of mine at the FBI-"

"Do I want to know how you made so many friends?"

"No, you don't. They were also sent to Interpol. So I'm waiting on that. It's a waiting game. And you're impatient. You have a test on Tuesday in your Modern History class. I have the notes laid out for you, as well as additional information in case they do an essay portion."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not. I told you that you were going to work on your classes, and it'll keep your mind off the situation. If you do the work, I'll make it worth your while."

"Like?"

"Like you get to see my tattoo again and the interesting positions you can see it in."

"Insatiable much?"

"Five centuries?"

"Point taken."

* * *

He was doing homework, but he was doing homework for her. The incentives aside, she had a point that he'd gotten lazy over the last few years. Greendale had sucked the life out of him, but it was the sudden change in work load that had thrown him for the proverbial loop. Before essentially being disbarred from the Colorado Bar Association (he held no illusions at this time that he was in fact disbarred) , he always had the facts ready to crush a prosecuting attorney into the ground. He loved the thrill of the win. And Jeff had only felt it twice since Greendale, after the debate and after the first year of Paintball. He wanted the rush again, he craved the rush.

So he was now deep in a cavern in one of Annie's immaculately cared for libraries. Upon examination of the titles in the book shelves, he knew she'd placed in this specific room due to shelves upon shelves of political treatises and theory. She was going to make him work for it now. Even before the revelations of the last two weeks, she would have pushed him to study. And he would have blown Annie off with a witty remark and a lackadaisical smile. It was their agreement, and with her, he kept his promise.

It seemed inconsequential, all things considered. People wanted him injured or dead, beyond the normal scope of life. The attack at the diner, the attack at the restaurant; it would make a man consider staying home and cooking his meals for the rest of his days. And Annie had saved him on both occasions, which was a role reversal he'd never imagined. All things considered, did studying for classes even matter now?

Annie stood at the doorway, watching the tall man working with three books open. "I've only seen you really study once. You were in the study room, trying to beat Rich with pottery techniques."

"I haven't had proper incentive since then." She picked up one of the worksheets she'd provided him, and matched the questions to the answer key in her mind. She'd had many jobs in the past. In one of her roles, she _had_ been a school teacher, which many children depended on her for their education.

"Mastering knowledge is its own incentive."

"Did you really just say that?"

"Too hokey?"

"You Britta'd the moment."

"I don't remember this being a moment."

Jeff snorted. "And they say _I'm_ not a romantic."

"Actually, I'm a character archtype combination of the dark lady and the ingenue." She put the back of her hand to forehead and swooned against desk. "For I have been cursed, tragedy having struck my life; and I struggle to fight my inner demons, and will languish for the entirety of human history!"

"Annie?"

"If only there was a knight in shining armor, someone to ride in on a trusty steed and save me from myself!"

"Annie?"

She fell to her knees, placing her hands together in prayer, and looked to the ceiling. "Oh, please! Let a reluctant hero save me from myself and from the terrible curse."

"Now that's pathetic." Jeff chuckled and went back to the worksheets Annie had made him. She broke out in laughter, a sweet music that softened his heart. Holding one of the worksheets up, he chuckled at the entire situation. "You realize that I'm not in fourth grade, right?"

"You don't like the way I'm helping you study?"

"I don't mind the help."

"So what's the problem?"

"It feels so…elementary."

"Sometimes the best ways to learn is to break everything down to a more simplistic level. I knew a man once who used flash cards for medical terms. He's a heart surgeon in Las Vegas now."

"I'm not a doctor."

"No, you're too lazy. You're lucky I'm not asking for an essay."

"You wouldn't do tha-. Know what, don't answer that."

"I have you trained so well." Annie looked over the desk at the piece of paper he was working, nodded at few of the answers, then pulled a chair up next to the desk. Placing her elbows on the table and bridging her hands to lean her chin on, she watched him work. Surprisingly, he had taken to this format of education. Simplistic as it may be, sometimes things like this would help the student retain more information; though there was the side benefit of making fun of Jeff.

"So I found out some information."

He didn't look up as he paged through a large hardcover of congressional journals. "Okay…."

"Our attackers, at least two of them, were from Eastern Europe."

"And you have a gut feeling about it…"

She took a breath. "They're from Romania."

"Friends of yours."

"These people know too much about me." Looking off into an imaginary horizon, she was deep in thought and kicking herself for being so careless in her hiding.

"It couldn't be another vampire, could it? God I can't believe I said that with a straight face."

"I wouldn't know." She was quiet again. "The one who turned me let himself die before the 1700's. And by then, he'd lived for countless centuries. I'm the only one left."

"So we have three dead mercenaries, probably the same people that shot up the diner, with no clue what their motive was."

"Yes."

"Not much to go on counselor. I'm just throwing this out there, so don't get all yellow glowy eyed, but you mentioned cursing the couple that betrayed you."

"I've been down that avenue already. There were no descendants of the Steopan line after 1663."

"So Margarita-"

"Marga."

"- didn't have any children beyond the two that you know of."

"Yeah."

"What about the husband? She was seeing other people. He was out pillaging and plundering, which can include raping."

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked up at him again while he closed the books on the table and flipped one of the papers for a scratch pad. "Janos never said anything about women frequenting Radu's bedroll…."

"That he or you know of. If she was seeing men, he was doing women. Which means the Steopan line you were watching wasn't on that side of the family tree. And I doubt most of those women weren't willing." In his career as a lawyer, one type of defendant was taboo to him. Rapists were bad luck, and there were others in the firm that would jump at the chance if the client had a lot of money. Granted, everyone man and woman had the legal right to their in court; but he knew how to read people, and he'd picked out who would be a bad apple.

"Jeff, I hunted down any associate of Radu or Marga's. I slaughtered the village, and burned some of the country side…"

"That's still a lot of ground to cover between your village and camp, and the other towns. And I'm not a math major, but isn't there something like a cell dividing."

"Geometric Progression. One to two, two to four, four to sixteen and so on. It makes sense. Even with infant mortality rates aside, that's a lot of people."

"But only one or two bad apples."

"That is a _lot_ ground to cover. Historical records don't go back that far."

"Which means the next step is to follow the money. It's like a divorce case. Husbands and wives hide money all the time during nasty cases. Most banks in the US require all sorts of wonderful verification and identification to open accounts, and they keep track of that; so it's all off-shore if you want to keep the money hidden. "

"I tried that route." She was lying. Jeff knew her tells now.

"But you didn't use _all_ your resources. How long has your 'family' had those accounts at the Swiss banks?"

"Going on two hundred fifty years, at least."

"Which means you're probably a high value customer." Jeff was smiling now. He was on a roll with new ideas. And he was smiling. "Which also means the banks will probably bend over backwards for a very high value client if they were asked for some information."

"Follow the money?"

"Follow the money. It doesn't matter how many shell companies it goes through, there is _always_ a paper trail."

"When did you get good at this?"

"I was a lawyer. I may not have been on the right side of the fence, and I haven't really thought about it until recently. But I know a lot of tricks where an honest person may falter."

"Yeah. That's right Jeff, Daniel Webster has absolutely nothing on you and your wonderful lawyer skills. You're just _so_ awesome." Edison's voice was dripping with playful sarcasm. Then the cyan irises softened and her wonderful smile crept out. "You really don't know how sexy you are until you show initiative. That's what I've always loved about you. And I know you love the thrill of the hunt."

"I'm not a wolf."

"You crave young flesh. Said it yourself."

Jeff rolled his head towards his right shoulder in exasperation. "Yeah, well, I thought you were nineteen at the time." He drawled out. Winger exhaled and his eyes closed due to the lack of sleep. He would blame his unfamiliarity with sleeping in a strange bed, let alone one that he shared with an "older" woman

"Technically speaking, I still am."

He guffawed. "Yeah, whatever Little Miss Ingénue."

"What? Do you want me to swoon again?" Her stood and walked behind him, then leaned her rather amble bosom over his shoulder until cleavage was clearly evident. "I can hardly contain myself. Shall I swoon again?" She had made her way around the desk, and fell into his lap. "Oh please allow this tender young woman to be devoured by the whole of your carnal needs. I am so in lust that I know not what I can do."

Winger rolled his eyes when his brow was once more troubled. "Wait, who's Daniel Webster?"

"You are such a heathen." She pulled herself, went to a bookshelf and pulled out a hardcover. "Read it. I may test you later."

"An-nie!" He whined when she threw the book at him.

* * *

They'd been at it for hours, tossing ideas back and forth between the downstairs library and her rather opulent bedroom. In between bouts of intelligent comments, snarky remarks and a healthy dose of innuendo (and an even healthier amount of gratuitous sex which neither complained about), Jeff finally laid a card on the table he was hesitant to use.

"We need Abed."

"And why do we need Abed?" She looked up from her workstation while he went through files on one of her laptops.

"Because Abed is more observant than you or I could ever be. He's a living computer. He pieces information together differently."

"And what part of 'I'm trying to protect you and the group, my only family,' did you not understand? You do realize that the people who are trying to kill us will keep an eye on the group. And I have a feeling they're not above kidnapping to draw me or you out."

"We need him Annie."

She was insistent on this point. "Jeff, we have to do without him. It's bad enough you're already in danger."

"And here _I_ thought this was a partnership."

"This isn't a partnership. This is a dictatorship. You follow my instructions." _Back off Winger!_ said that tiny voice in his head that he'd stop listening to years before. He didn't know how to take that comment, and the pointed comment and direct response surprised him.

Thusly, Jeff said the first thing on his mind. "That was brutal."

"It's the truth. And we've already gone over this."

"I told you I can take care of myself."

"And I said you can't."

So he tried for levity. "Do you not see these abs? These guns?" He flexed his biceps. While not bulging, they were toned well and did in fact have power behind them.

"Oh I see them. I also saw your ass handed to you by the Fly Dancers. You must have been so proud." Jeff bit his tongue, hard. The sarcastic side wanted so much to retort, but the new light shed on Annie's character prevented him from the truly hurtful comments. The miniscule and oft ignored voice was screaming and making no progress.

"All right. If you're going to be that way, I'll be over at Dildopolis, with a big sign saying 'Come and get me'."

"No, you're not. And I'll restrain you if I have to."

_Winger, she's holding back! Stop pressing the issue! It's not worth it! Think of the damn tattoo and how flexib-_ **_Shut up!_** "Yeah, bondage, whatever. Get this through that head of yours: I'm not Janos."

"You're right, you're not Janos. Janos could take care of himself. Do you think you can just go up to these people, talk them down with a Jeff Winger Speech then go to L Street and toss back a few McClellands? It doesn't work like that."

"And I'm sure you're going to tell me how it works?"

"I am! Because here's what you're going to have to do," Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him close to her face. "Because you're going to have to kill people; and killing changes you! You don't have near the amount of impetus that I did when I took all those lives. You can't just walk up to a person and shoot them in the stomach, letting them die that long, slow death. You asked me if I had the guts to do it. I do Jeff. I've taken a _lot_ of lives. Most, I'm not very proud of. And even when they did deserve it, a little piece of me died."

"Dramatic much?"

"Shut up!"

"Not everyone is wired the same!"

"I know, and that's why you lost your dinner after the scuffle in the parking light the other night. You're not ready for something like that, and I'm doing my damndest so you _don't_ ever have to do that."

"It's my choice Annie!" The woman pushed him away from her as lightly as she could. She didn't want to hurt him, and she knew that if she was mad she could lose control.

"Leave."

"What?"

She pointed towards the door. "Leave. Take whatever you car want. Just…just leave and don't look back."

"That's not happening." Jeff was going to stand his ground, it was now principle. But Annie grabbed him by the front of his shirt again and pulled him up off his feet. Her eyes were burning an azure fire and she threw him out of the room with only some of her impressive might. He landed on his ass, having been thrown through the open doorway of the office and into the great room.

"I'll tell you this right now." She was suddenly crouched down in front of him, her lips brushing against his ear. He felt a hot breath. He felt her anger. "I love you too much to let you get hurt. But if you walk down this road, you will never, ever, see me again." His eyes widened. "You can tell the group whatever you want about why I left. I won't be joining you anymore at Greendale." Annie exhaled slowly, knowing this was driving him insane. "And if you say one word, _one word_, about the real me, I will completely disappear after making your short miserable little life a living hell." She stood and peered down at the tall man. Elisabeta was back in full force. The vengeful woman who had killed hundreds of people was now seething at the younger man. She whispered, her eyes glowing amber and her fangs bared. "Now get the hell out of my home."

"Annie!" But she blurred out of existence, and the double doors to the office slammed shut and clicked. His buttocks was going to bruise; she had thrown him with enough force that he'd almost had the wind knocked out of him when he landed. But Jeff knew he'd hurt her emotionally and mentally. Whoever he was, whoever he looked like, he had no right to push her that hard. She may have lived for centuries, but behind the walls she'd built to protect her, she was still a young woman who was still trying to find her place in the world.

There was nothing more he could do.

* * *

_Hi! This is Annie! Leave me a message and I'll call you right back!_

_An-nie, I hope you are okay, we miss you so much! If you're feeling sick, I can come over and make chicken soup and bring the brownies you like. Call me!"_

_Annie, Pierce Hawthorne. Haven't seen you at the group in a while and we're honestly getting tired of Brittles and Jeff, who is hiding in the closet still, fighting all the time.  
…If there is something wrong, Annie, please call."_

_Heyyyy Annie, how're you doing? We have a major test on Friday, and wondered if you wanted to study with us, since you haven't been around to take notes. Give me a call and we'll go out sometime! Call me soon, okay?"_

_Annie! Hey! Look, we totally need you back, because Britta is going crazy and Shirley is hitting Pierce with her purse! Jeff's not here right now to help, and Abed is filming again, this is going to make such an awesome documentary. Annie, I'm gonna start crying soon, please come back! We need our Annie!_

_Jeff hasn't said anything since we figured out you weren't telling the truth. His character development has hit a block, and we haven't heard from you. I'm worried about your story arc Annie, the group's cohesiveness is struggling to stay intact. And we can't afford a spin-off series until season five…possibly. Help me Annie Edison, you're my hope._

_You donth want to talk to me…tha-sh fine. I wouldnth admit ith to anyone, but you are my Annie. Please leth me help you…I donth want to losesh you. I….I love you Annie…_

_I said some things that I shouldn't have. And I know you're protecting me. And I didn't respect that. You know how I am. I'm too stubborn for my own good, and I wanted to help. For the first time in my life, my new life that is…I wanted to help. I'm…I'm just worried about you. Don't cut us…don't cut me out, because we…because I can't lose you."_

_The test went okay today. We barely pulled through. The group is…well, they're themselves. But you were our heart…our true heart. Call me back, please._

_…_

_…please let me back in._

_I can't talk to loud. There's a person looking around campus. Never seen him before, but Abed pointed him out. He's so far the only stranger around here. Call me back, we may need help._

Elisabeta took a deep breath. She'd listened to the multitude of messages over the past week. The trail Jeff helped her find had produced wonderful results, and she'd had some of her contacts investigating Chicago and Salt Lake City for clues. Her suppliers had come through for her, providing her with the tools to survive any attack that may come her way.

Jeff's messages hurt. She heard actual pain in his voice, and the emotional wall she'd hastily built back up was being knocked down with every call from her study group… no, from her friends… and him. One way or another, she needed to prevent them from being hurt by the assassins dogging her heels.

She wanted so badly to leave, to let them live the rest of their lives with her running off to Timbuktu and writing the occasional Christmas/Hanukah card. It would be so easy to cut them from her life. In twenty years, maybe she could come back to her home in the mountains. Perhaps make trips to the area for vacations, but as far away from Greendale as possible.

Her cellphone chirped for the hundredth time this weekend. _Annie, call me back, please. _

Elisabeta started making arrangements for her departure from Greendale.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"She's not coming back, is she?" Abed was staring straight ahead at the third episode in season fifteen of _Inspector Spacetime_ on the television, waiting for an answer to his question from Jeff. Troy was absent this evening, on a date with Britta, who despised the term but had been almost giddy with anticipation for the event.

He was pacing the apartment, avoiding the fan on each pass. It was two weeks now with no word from her and it was tearing his insides to pieces. He couldn't sleep and barely ate, couldn't watch TV or pay attention in classes. When he wasn't in class, eyes glazed over with disinterest, he was lifting weights and running. It was unhealthy with such a minimal amount of nourishment . He knew it was unhealthy. But the exercise prevented him from thinking too hard about her.

He missed the mix of Elisabeta's seductiveness with the innocence of Annie. Elisabeta was worldly and forceful. Annie was delicate and sly. Both were determined, both were intelligent. And both were conflicted and wounded.

"I don't know buddy. I might have fucked this one up. Big time." He was scared; for him, for her, for their friends. This was beyond the Greendale weird he'd become accustomed to. Beyond anything he'd ever encountered. And it all stemmed from a young brunette with mesmerizing eyes and aa positive outlook on a world that had tried to destroy her.

"She'll come back. Her storyline isn't over. The lead has to make a grand gesture. Have you thought about flowers and a mariachi band?"

"Who says I'm the lead?"

Abed looked up from his show and pierced Jeff with a stare and a raised eyebrow. "I think we can safely assume who is who after three years."

"You? Assume?"

"I'm saying that for your benefit." Jeff snorted, and not paying attention, hit his head on the fan. Wincing in pain and putting a hand to his aching forehead, he sat down next to Abed. By then, Abed was once more absorbed in his show; and Jeff was now hurt both physically and emotionally.

"Can you _please_ take that damn fan down?"

"Landlord said we couldn't. He's evil."

Jeff's brow crinkled. "He's evil?"

"He dressed as the Joker for Halloween." Winger snorted, he knew Abed was obsessed with batman, but sometimes it was a little excessive.

"I said I could protect myself." He looked at the younger man. "I told her that I'm not who she thinks I am and that I can take of myself. She has this weird idea that I can't. Relationships are a two way street, right? Fifty fifty down the middle. We're supposed to trust each other?"

"Hypothetically yes."

"She thought I couldn't contribute. I'm not a pretty face…well, attractive and handsome, yes."

"Hm."

"These arms, this body," He flexed his muscles, "it isn't for show."

"Allow me to use sarcasm for a moment. The bully in the first year."

"That was a fluke."

"His backup." He was ticking his opponents off with each finger.

"Lucky he had some."

"Annie, twice. And Buddy. You're not a fighter, despite what I thought when you were defending my honor. You bluster, you connive, you convince, but you don't act physically. You're charismatic Jeff, but your Inspector Spacetime, you're not Constable Reggie."

"Inspector who?"

"Spacetime."

"Then tell me what to do Abed." Jeff slumped into the chair that Troy normally occupied.  
"You're the master at this kind of stuff."

Abed paused his show and turned to Jeff. "This has something to do with the people appearing randomly on campus watching us, doesn't it? Those people have guns Jeff."

"You saw guns?" Again, Abed raised an eyebrow. "Right."

"This isn't a schoolyard bully, those people are playing for keeps."

"It's me they're after."

"It's Annie too. What did you two do?"

He couldn't say anything. She may have kicked him out of her life, but he damn well was going to keep her secret. "I…I can't say buddy."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I made a promise." Abed nodded once.

"That's all I needed to hear. You're the only one who knows what to do. Remember, I'm Yoda."

"And I'm Han Solo."

"They never shared screen time, but they were interconnected. You know what you have to do."

Jeff rose from his chair, and put a hand on Abed's shoulder. "Thanks. For everything. I don't say it enough, but you're all right."

"Just so I know, and I probably do, what are you going to do?"

"Find her, help her, and tell her how I feel."

Jeff nodded and walked out of the small apartment.

* * *

_Hi! This is Annie! Leave me a message and I'll call you right back!_

_He loves you Annie. You should give him a chance. I'll watch the group, while you two take care of whatever it is you need to do. Protect each other, because he's about to be an idiot. _

Elisabeta listened to the latest message from Abed. She couldn't help but smile. She was mad, angered by Jeff's inability to take a hint, but it still made her smile.

* * *

Jeff had actually stayed past dusk on the campus of Greendale of his own will on rare occasions. Between conspiracy theories, Halloween parties, dances (his mind was still boggled by them), and paintball, his life was becoming more and more consumed by the community college. But tonight, he wanted something from Greendale besides a substandard education to get his law license back. Tonight, he wanted it to provide the appropriate venue for a supposedly unsuspecting bait.

He'd taken her advice, and was even more surprised that the sparse Greendale Community College library had a copy of anything by Steven Vincent Benet, and he had to admit that Daniel Webster was a slick son of a bitch. If a man could go up against the Devil with a fixed jury and still win, he had to be impressed. He had a few pages left. Old Scratch was predicting Webster's future, and despite it being bleak, at least he wasn't going to be disbarred. Annie would be proud of him, reading on his own initiative. But Annie…no, Elisabeta also said she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

It was 2AM. And his brain was screaming and telling him what a fuck-up he was for putting himself out in the open like this. But he wanted to be with the enigmatic woman who over the past few years had drawn herself into his life and him into hers.

The first indication something was amiss was the sound of heavy footsteps. He'd been straining to hear anything, and this was it. He didn't look up towards the approaching predator, didn't show any emotion, and stuffed the fear into the back of his mind.

"Jeffrey Winger." The voice was familiar, but the presence of the man it belonged to was bewildering. Opening the door, the predator clasped his hands behind his back and ambled towards the tall man.

"Do I even _want_ what you're doing here?"

"Oh I think you know why I'm here. I was just finishing some things up in the other building when I saw you sitting in here from outside. Big test coming up?"

He grunted. "Of all the people in the world, wouldn't you be the first to know if we had something?"

"Well, you're right. I'm just so busy lately, that I've totally lost track of the time." The man opened his arms. "A man in my position, well, I'm always busy. It's why I have assistants for this kind of thing." He leaned over Pierce's chair and smiled a sly smile.

"Well…guess I'll see you Monday."

"Maybe sooner? I figured you'd enjoy some company." He looked around the room. "Anyone else from your little group here?"

"No. Just me." Jeff's hand went towards his hip, grabbing the newly bought tazer and pointing it at the enemy. "I know this is a bit cliché, but I'd love to hear that evil plan of yours." The predator let out a booming laugh then raised his own gun just as quickly, surprising his adversary.

"I've always enjoyed a good cliché. So, I'm going to let you know how this is going to go down. You're going to put your little toy down, and we're going to the airpoirt."

Jeff fingered the trigger, knowing the electrodes and wires would make the distance across the table. He could take the shot, there was no real emotional attachment to the man in front of him, and a plan was starting to form in his mind. Shoot the man, truss him up, and get some answers.

His hesitation cost him. He heard the CO2 hiss, and Jeff felt the sting in his neck. He tried to stand from his chair, and nearly fell without propping himself up with the table. He'd drop the only thing he could use to defend himself, the stun gun clattering to the thinly carpeted floor. Jeff's hand went to his neck, and felt the feathery tail of the dart he was now pulling out of his neck. Looking to the dart, then to his assailant, his eyes rolled voluntarily at the unfairness of the situation.

"Oh come on!" His vision was hazy and blurry. Jeff could hear the boisterous laughter of the man as he dropped to his knees, nearly hitting his chin on the corner of the table. And now his eyes rolled involuntarily as the narcotic took effect. And Jeff lost consciousness.

Again.

* * *

_We have him._

_It should draw her out of hiding. I'm sending my men to your location. _

_Are we really sure we want to trifle with this woman? You and I both know what will happen if she gets a hold of us._

_Just make sure he doesn't escape or hurt himself. I want him fully intact._

_And the rest of the group?_

_I am not without mercy, far more than she ever gave. You will leave them be for now._

_You promised me-_

_I know what I promised. You'll have what you want._

* * *

Elisabeta was still on her computer when the cell phone rang next to her. She'd been waiting for this call. She needed to tell Jeff to leave her alone. It was killing her, because being with him made her much happier than she had been in the last five centuries. He made her feel alive, and she felt whole once more. Perhaps this was a sign for her to start a new life, and the need for penance felt complete for the first time in her life.

He was right though, she wanted him to be Janos; she'd pined for her husband, long dead for ages. And Jeff was right, he wasn't Janos, he was Jeff Winger: a repentant amoral lawyer who was learning actual humility. But under the layer of unpleasantness lie a heart of gold. He cared, but with so many years of mental abuse, he'd walled it up. Jeff had shut down those feelings and emotions. It was a familiar feeling. She in essence had done the same so many years before.

So, for the first time in weeks, she answered the phone. "Hello?"

_It's so good to put a voice to a face, Ms. Edison._ The voice was distorted, she hated when people did this, trying to be ever so clever and anonymous; she already had a trace program at her workstation running. It'd take ten seconds.

"In the past, I have attempted to please. Would you educate me on why you have Mr. Winger's phone?"

_He let me borrow it. Mr. Winger is such a generous individual._

"Indeed. May I speak with him?"

_He's unable to speak with you at the moment. Would you like to give him a message?_ Her trace was complete. The movies always let the drama play out. In reality, it never took long to attain information like location. If you knew the right people, and had the right coin, you can do anything.

"Why yes. Please tell him that I'll pick him up at approximately 7:38PM on the December 4th."

_You sound rather certain in your intent._

"Just give him the message. Now, is there anything else you want, because I really don't have the time to banter with idiots."

_Oh but that's the fun part, the banter. It's what separates us from the common man. To think: two opponents across the centuries finally connecting with each other, it makes me giddy._

"God you're melodramatic." Elisabeta's rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the voice.

_You don't like it? Perhaps I should just speak clearly._

"By all means."

_If you want your boyfriend alive, you'll surrender yourself to us. In exchange, we promise to free Winger. You may find us at the location you traced us to. _

"I want proof of life." She heard a tone, and pulled up the streaming video onto one of the screens. He chained to a metal pole, blindfolded and bound. He was 'looking' straight at the camera.

_Say something Winger._

_Annie, don't come. It's a trap._ His voice was monotone and dripping with sarcasm. She couldn't help but smile. Only Jeff Winger would turn a situation like this into a joke. She strained not to laugh. Then he nodded at the camera and smirked when the image froze.

_Was that enough._

"Yes. I assume you've made the appropriate arrangements?"

_We are ready to execute you for crimes against humanity. _

"Oh, goody. Mind if I ask how many of you there are?"

"Enough to stop you. Why?"

"I want to know how many body bags I'll be buying for the various John and Jane Doe's I'll be killing."

_Now who is providing the witty repartee and predictions._

"That wasn't a prediction." The sly smile crossed her face. "Hurt him, and I'll make your death slow. Keep him alive and in excellent health, and I'll make it quick."

The caller hung up.

Now it was time to make a house call.

* * *

"Annie!"

"Hey Abed." She stepped into his apartment, immediately confronted with a low hanging sheet. "New blanket fort?"

"Yeah, Troy and Britta went to get more sheets."

The woman couldn't help but smile. "I miss this." He led her into New Fluffy Town, past the Raider's model, and into a form of common room. Abed let Elisabeta find a spot to settle in then grabbed a bowl of popcorn for them to share.

"You should have brought Jeff. We could still call Shirley and Pierce."

"I really wish I could stay, but I have to leave town for a few days."

"Chicago?"

She was taken aback. "Yeah…how did you know?"

"It's the nearest place for a dramatic finale to your story. I assume Jeff is their prisoner?" She nodded. "I thought so. The role reversal is a clever twist. Not entirely unpredictable, but it makes for more comedic moments. What can I do to help?" Shaking her head, she remembered that Abed always knew more than he let on. He had figured out her secret during the summer between first and second year. It'd come as a shock, but a secret friendship had been formed amongst the two.

"I need you to take everyone to my home in the mountains. Seal the doors, and wait for my call."

Abed Nadir blinked at her owlishly. "Lockdown?"

"Lockdown. Just like we discussed." There was a glimmer in his eye that she enjoyed seeing. The world was a giant adventure to the young man, and that she could provide him an outlet for his fantasies was a privilege.

"Can I coordinate from your work station?"

She smiled. "I would very much like that."

"Cool…cool cool cool."

Annie kissed him on the cheek. "That's why I love you Abed."

"But not like Jeff."

"Luke and Leia?"

Abed gave her a ghost of a smile. "The kiss did feel strange. Like I was kissing a sister. Just watch out for ewoks." She giggled and gave him a hug. "Bring him home Annie."

* * *

_"Mr. Winger."_ He'd just fallen asleep when the distorted voice woke him. Jeff had been moved from the ostentatious metal pole in the middle of a locked room to a more accommodating steel cell. He was fed some sort of gruel with honey, and left locked up for most of the day. Shuffling on the mounted cot, he turned his back away from the wall, shielding himself from whatever may assault him. He was silent, putting the small pillow over his head to block out the voice.

_"Mr. Winger." _It said again, only louder.

"I'm trying to sleep." He grumbled under the pillow.

_"Sleep is counterproductive." _

Jeff threw the pillow at the far wall, and then sat up on the cot. "So what do you want!"

_"We want you to be comfortable, Mr. Winger." _

"Then let me sleep!" Winger scoffed at the idiocy of the situation.

_"Is there anything we can do to make your stay more convenient?" _

"Letting me go would be a good start." There was little in the convenience, save for the mounted cot and toilet in the corner. He honestly wasn't sure he'd need to use it without some sort of embarrassment. He felt dirty, having no way to take a shower or cleanse his skin.

The door to his cell opened. _"And you are free to leave."_ A look of bewilderment crossed his face. _"Please, Mr. Winger. We won't hold you against your will." _He tentatively stood up and inched towards the door. Upon reaching the threshold though, the door slammed shut. _"We do need something from you though." _

"Fuckers."

_"No need for such language." _

"Ya know what, there is. You have not right to hold me here. If you want something, just say it."

_"We want Annie Edison. You provide her, we will let you go." _

"Fuck you."

_"Temper temper." _

"Jag-offs."

_"Why do you love her?" _

Jeff looked up at the ceiling finding no visible cameras or speakers, unsure how they were watching him or where the voice was coming from. "What's it to you?"

_"How can you love someone with so much blood on her hands? It's a simple question." _Shrugging his shoulders Winger found it odd he wasn't talking to someone, per se.

"You provide evidence, and I'll decide."

_"She destroyed thousands of lives over the years. Surely you see that she is a threat." _

"Maybe she had a reason."

_"You're a bright man Jeff, why would anyone murder people? What reason would they have?"_

"Self defense and retributive justice."

_"Yet Ms. Edison could have disabled instead of killed in the parking lot that night. And the slaughter of whole villages." _

"Look, I'm not going to argue intent. You send people to harm others, you have no knowledge of intention; whatever the reason they attack, a person has the right to defend themselves. If they're the offending party, their rights go right out the window. I know for God damn sure she didn't slaughter villages." He was lying through his teeth on that last part.

_"You sound so sure of yourself. Didn't she tell you of her home village? " _

"14th Century history or law is not my concern"

_"And so the victims of that massacre have no rights?" _

"Whatever she did, she has paid her dues-"

_"Wrong! That monster will never know the pain she caused to those families. Her acts are unforgiveable" _Jeff did one of the stupidest things he had done in a long time. He punched the wall. And Winger regretted it immediately when the pain shot through his arm.

"Said acts are justifiable under…what the hell am I doing. You want to argue this? Come talk to me in person, face to face. Because you can't bullshit me. I did that for a living, I'm a master."

The distorted voice was laughing at him. _"You're blind to the truth Winger." _

"And you're a hackneyed villain who has no concept of reality. Seriously, who uses kidnapping? Too many cartoons as a kid? Too many B-movie flicks? Where's the originality."

_"You want to meet me face-to-face?" _

"Bring it."

The door opened, and Jeff wasn't completely surprised.

* * *

She hated flying. Call it the fact she was so used to using conventional means by ground or sea over the last several hundred years. Elisabeta felt that sometimes technology advanced far more quickly than what human beings were ready for and flying was one such advancement. She loved her private rail car, and she missed using it. Yet on rare occasions, when flying was necessary, having large amounts of stock in certain companies came with a few perks. The leer jet was an amusing creature in her eyes; yes, they were faster than a railcar, but they were more expensive than her own home. They were a travesty to all that was beautiful about travel.

There was never enough time, she thought to herself, to sit back and enjoy travel. She would have to trick the group into a rail trip this summer. Elisabeta couldn't help but smile when Britta would huff at the idea of luxury, when Abed and Troy did their special clapshake (her term, she'd have to discuss it with them); Pierce would have his own private car, complete with cognac and cigars, Shirley and he kids would enjoy the trip. But Jeff she was unsure of anymore. Her feelings towards him were stronger than ever before. She cried herself to sleep on several nights, pining for the physical and emotional contact they had shared. In one room of her home, she'd had memorabilia from her many adventures and travels over the years; the debate certificate, a paintball gun, a purple pen and other mementoes of Greendale had been given their own glass case. Each and every one of these items was a reminder of what she'd recently gotten back.

The vampiress adjusted the coat of her trouser suit, and mussed with her hair briefly. She hated these things, and she missed the comfort of her floral prints or the pencil skirt. Modernity was a constant in her life, and she had seen clothing…no, humanity evolve into something completely different through globalization. On several occasions, she longed for a simpler time with simpler clothing.

Her reverie was interrupted by a soft tone and a green seatbelt light lighting up. Taking her seat and buckling her belt she watched as the wing to her right dipped, and the plane started its descent. Elisabeta thought more and more about the upcoming confrontation, and her research was leading to a conclusion she was not pleased with. If it was the offshoot of Marga and Radu, she'd be facing several people with misconstrued ideals. The descendants of the betrayers would have passed down a falsehood that made her a literal monster and them a pious couple doing what was right. There was no amount of convincing that would change their minds. And she loathed the actions she would taking within the next two days.

The jet touched down smoothly. She would be tipping these pilots handsomely for their services and skill. If there was one thing that was constant in her life, it was to support excellent behavior. It worked in education, it worked in business, and it worked in her personal life. It was taxied to a private hanger, the pilots placed on standby; and the upon exiting the plane, she felt the chill air of the Windy City.

"Ms. Barnes, it is a pleasure to see you again." Elisabeta was approached by a slim, middle-aged black man in a shirt and tie.

"Mr. Jacobs. The pleasure is mine. When Martin told me you were my contact, I couldn't help but remember your father. How is he?"

Jacobs closed his eyes and shook his head. "We lost him a year ago. But he passed peacefully. Our family owes you a great debt for taking care of him in his later years." Elisabeta gave a silent approval, and Jacobs closed the distance and hugged the shorter woman. "I'm sorry." He stepped back.

"Jack, I understand completely. Your father was a good man, and I owe him several times over. It was the least I could do. What we went through…was a nightmare that wouldn't wish on my enemies." She sighed, the memories of her last visit to Eastern Europe and the horrors she had witnessed and perpetrated.

He led her to the car in silence. "Dad told me a few years back about the…special situation you find yourself in."

"Did he?" She stepped into the back followed by him. The driver nodded and slowly made his way to guard post than onto Interstate 190.

"He made me promise that whenever you needed help, our family would be here for you." The woman closed her eyes and smiled a sad smile. "He talked about the woman who saved his life once or twice when I was a kid. Never gave details until last year. We just always assumed your parents were family friends."

"My friend Abed would say 'from a certain point of view. My condolences Jack, he was a great man who made a difference." Jacobs nodded in appreciation. Pulling a case up, he unlocked the lid and opened it. "I remember that…"

"He said you gave it to him. During the War, in Romania." He passed the case to her. The hand gun gleamed despite its age. She couldn't help the tear that fell. She touched the grip, ran a finger along the slide and barrel. She remembered everything about that horrible day when she let loose with reckless abandon. Elisabeta regretted nothing that day.

"I don't know if you know the history of this weapon. The Nazis, on occasion, would take these off POWs. This was an American soldier's weapon. When I found it, I gave it to him as we escaped the prison camp. It was only right for it to be returned to an American solider."

"He wanted you to have it in case something like this came up. You'll need it, for what you're going to do."

Elisabeta nodded. "I will return this to your family when I'm done."

"We know you will."

INSERT LINE BREAK HERE!

The vampiress couldn't help but laugh at the structure in front of her. The abandoned warehouse on the waterfront of Lake Michigan was too cliché even for her. Elisabeta pulled the goggles down over her head and counted again, writing a number on the pad of paper next to her for each individual.

"Tell me about this place."

_"Built in 1938, used by a shipping concern until 1982 when the business went bankrupt. Bought in 2005 by a shell company in the Seychelles; remodeled by Sterlings and Gould in 2009. Power, water, and gas paid in full each month."_

"Anything suspicious Abed?"

_"Annie, I've only had two hours with this setup."_

"I have faith in you Abed."

_"…Records show there are two land lines into the building, as well as an old T/1 line and newer fiber optic line. Data use is minimal."_ She heard typing in the background. _"Did you count how many guards?"_

"Sending them now." Abed, to her amusement took to the workstation setup quickly. With a year of practice, she could use him as a consultant and probably start a small freelance intelligence agency. The young man was naturally intuitive, and the CIA would kill to have him. But Elisabeta also knew that would kill him and his creativity.

_"Pierce wants another bottle of cognac."_

"Bottom right hand cupboard. We won't know how many people are in that building, will we."

_"No, unless you have a spy satellite in the sky, which would be really cool. Troy wants to know what we're doing."_

She pulled the goggles up and turned on a receiver. Within seconds, she heard voices relaying orders. "Tell Troy that he and Britta should go for a swim by the waterfall." There was a muffled voice on the other end of the connection, and Elisabeta couldn't help by chuckle. Troy's burgeoning relationship with Brtta was a joyful occasion as well as hilarious. In complete contradiction to both of their normal "types," over the last month they had gotten closer. Her friends deserved their happiness, and she assured herself that she'd make it happen. Closing her eyes momentarily, she reset her focus and starting counting again. "Abed, I'm sending some numbers your way; can you find a patrol pattern?"

_"If I was there, I could tell you a lot more."_

"Abed, I've had a camera attached to these goggles the whole time. Haven't you been watching?" There was silence on the line.

_"I could tell you a lot more, I could tell you a lot more, I could, I could-"_

She should be livid, but she wasn't. She shook her head in exasperation; the vampiress knew he was deflecting. "Don't even think of trying that with me. Turn on the recording and see what you can find. I'm going get a different angle."

Elisabeta knew how to travel light. The kumpania had taught her centuries ago, and her more recent experience of backpacking the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains during the American Civil War. Traveling behind Axis lines required true scavenging skills, making any surplus equipment a godsend. The portable transceiver, the reinforced pad computer, night goggles, and a small medical kit were easily carried in leather satchel. The 1911 Colt was uncomfortable, (as a personal rule, she hated and never used firearms), but the holster was attached to her belt, and if Jeff needed a weapon she hoped he'd be able to shoot a gun properly.

_"North Entrance."_

"Pardon?" The voice in her ear took her out of her reverie.

_"It's the best place to enter. The street lamps are-"_

"I trust you. Abed, I'm moving up the time table."

_"…why?_

"Gut feeling."

_"I can't stop you. Just be careful."_

She pulled the goggles off her head, and turned them around. Her face was streaming life, and Abed was watching. She knew he was watching her. Knowing Abed, he'd use this as stock footage.

"Abed, I'm going offline now. If I don't come back, and there is a remote chance, I need you to open the safe in my office."

_"We can come rescue you, you know."_

"The vault door is time locked for three days. Please, don't fight me on this."

There was silence, and then a deflated voice. _"Bring him home Annie."_ Elisabeta could hear the younger man's genuine worry as she cut the communications feed. The woman knew that a thousand miles away, her friends were oblivious to what was happening.

She prayed that held true.

* * *

Years of training kicked into gear; her awareness expanded, her muscles flexed, her mind focused to preternatural crystal clarity. It was time once more to become the Blood Countess, and to her surprise there was some elation in the forthcoming activities of the evening. When her heightened abilities were unleashed, she could feel the twinge of her hunger. Elisabeta at one occasion wondered if she was becoming more and more animal when her "powers" were at full strength. That instance she had laughed the thought off, yet another time she scared herself into a prolonged anxiety attack which almost landed her in a mental ward.

She had learned long ago that theatrics went a long way towards intimidating the human mind. Presenting an anonymous façade provided her a psychological edge against her enemies, and she relished the fear it produced. The blood red tear drop under the left eye of the volto mask made it all the more dramatic. Her costume had also been modernized over the centuries; she'd added a duster that billowed like the riding cape she wore long ago, and instead of the long lost wedding robes, she now wore a skintight body suit turning her vampiric bride to succubus assassin. Elisabeta mused that she pulled the look off better than that _Underworld_ trollop with the added bonus of having come up with the idea decades before the movies. She'd shown Abed, who cocked his head and said what she thought was his trademark line of "cool cool cool." The final component of her "costume" was the sheath on her back for her husband's falx. The wooden handle, longer the double-sided curved blade itself has been used with brutal efficiency over the centuries, along with the short sword at her side.

Abed was correct about the northern approach. She stayed to the shadows, the midnight blue of the duster helping her blend in but the bone white face still visible in the dark of the night. The visage was enough to spook a hobo stumbling through the alley way, wherein he promptly dropped an empty bottle and ran off in a panic (Elisabeta couldn't help but smile).

The door to the warehouse was left mostly unguarded, save for a sentry that patrolled every fourteen minutes. She looked for cameras over the door, she look for any kind of alarm system. Abed had been thorough, but she needed to double and triple check.

The guard strolled by the woman, as if on cue, whistling an improvised tune and twirling the large key ring. It was too stereotypical for her when her eyes glanced at the belt. He had a sidearm, which never bode well, as well as a heavy flash light. They were armed and ready for anything may happen on their appointed rounds. Smaller caliber bullets never stopped Elisabetta, she'd learned enough first aid in the war to patch herself up and the added benefit of an accelerated healing ability could fix any minor injury. But the stun guns the thugs were using were worrisome. The idea of losing muscle control so quickly frightened her. Instincts honed over the course of several lifetimes told her if she stopped moving, she was dead. And if there was thing she shared with her Annie persona, was the loss of control could cause a problem.

She was in the shadows, her ears picking up the sound of every footstep and every breath. He was within five feet of her when she lunged at the man, spinning themselves around and slamming him hard against the wall. There was a loud thunk as his head hit the bricks of the building, and the sentry slumped down. Elisabeta checked his pulse then noticed the zip tie cuffs. She couldn't get this lucky, and she wasn't going to complain. Grabbing a handful and stuffing them in the satchel, she restrained the man and put him in the dumpster to hide her approach. Finished with the lookout she examined the door, looking at the lock, searching for a keypad; it was dead bolted, but that never stopped her. Two small paper clips bent into the right shapes helped deal with the lock, and she quickly slipped into warehouse portion of the building.

Taking refuge behind a pallet full of boxes, she closed her eyes and perked up her hearing once again. There were muffled voices in the background: several men, a few women, and at least one radio playing some no-name one hit wonder.

This was going to be harder than she thought. She never claimed to have sonar, but she could always picture the general whereabouts of individuals in even a largely enclosed area with enough concentration.

"Hi Annie!" She felt the shock of electricity. Elisabeta cringed, the electricity coursing through her body and figuratively freezing her in place before she could turn towards her attacker. It took three seconds before she went limp, and unconscious a second later with a kick to the temple.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Day two….or day three.

In actuality, Winger wasn't sure how long he'd been in captivity. The revelation of who his captors were hadn't necessarily shocked him after a healthy discussion in the mush that was his inner dialogue. Under normal conditions the silence and lack of stimuli would have driven him crazy; but now it gave him time to think. The whirlwind of events over the last month hadn't had time to settle.

Annie wasn't Annie, but she was Annie. Elisabeta purportedly held herself as a lost soul, and while her exterior attitude held as a no-nonsense and empowered woman, he knew she was tormented by her own actions. The group never gave him enough credit, but Jeff could read certain cues from facial features and voice changes. Hitches, stumbles, slurring, the twitch of the lip all held a clue to an individual's train of thought. Elisabeta was no different from the average person, save for the mileage.

First, Elisabeta had several traits that carried through all her personas. Underneath the hate, anger, and loneliness lay a heart of gold. Her extracurricular work was legitimate including the Diorama and Environmental clubs were enjoying the amount of time she volunteered. In hindsight, the little voice in his head said to itself proudly upon revelation, she was doing her part for the environment because she had actually _seen_ how the world had gotten worse. Her need to better the world was a constant. Her emphasis on continued learning, while annoying when making him study, kept her mind sharp over the centuries. Where Annie had been intelligent, Elisabeta was a genius. Both were driven to prove themselves to others and ultimately too their own self.

Second, Jeff mused, was that Elisabeta did care for the study group. She was happy to suffer with them; she shared in their triumphs, and shared in their failures. He questioned certain actions, such as the turning in of Chang to Pelton and jeopardizing their college plans. But the rationale fit that her persona would have required certain acts of self-sabotage; the same with the "bottle episode" with her damned purple pens. In essence she was an actress, but one that integrated the guise into her daily life. What had they learned about themselves through it all? Maybe she was trying to teach life lessons in all her shenanigans. If she ever spoke to him again, let alone his being ability to stay alive to speak to her again, he'd have to ask.

But most importantly, Annie and Elisabeta shared one important trait in common.

Neither ever gave up.

Jeff heard the clacking of metal on metal and he readied himself for anything. The squeak of the lock was mildly annoying after the third or fourth time during his captivity, but the screeching metal on metal sound from the cell door opening was teeth shattering and skull penetrating as it echoed through the stone walls of the room. With the steel door now open, he saw the shadows of two of the burly guards throw a human-like shape into the cell. The person was bound with their hands behind their back and a black bag over their head. The doors screeched shut and locked again, and the ex-lawyer made his way over to his new cellmate.

"So what are you in for?" He muttered to himself. The mass was motionless. He or she was breathing, and the tall man slowly pulled the black bag off the person's head. Brunette hair spilled out, a delicate pale cheek, luscious pink lips; why did it have to be her. He threw the hood to the side and picked up the prone woman, placing her on the cot. Lowering down, he kissed her lightly on the forehead, then let go and shifted back on the floor with his back against the edge of the bed. Best to let her sleep, he didn't know how grumpy she'd be. Safer for him that he not rock the boat.

He dozed for hours, when he felt a breath on the back of his neck followed by light kisses. He groaned, and heard a voice in his ear whispering in a soft, sweet voice. "You're okay." Jeff turned his head and directly into sapphire blue eyes staring back. They were soft yet worried, safe yet concerned.

"An…Elisa-" His heart calmed, the weight of his guilt for her change in personality withering away.

"Annie."

"Fancy meeting you here." She smiled at his quip. His humor shone through even in the darkest of times, and she loved him for that.

"I could say the same. How long was I out for?"

Jeff sighed, moving out of the strange contortion he was currently in. "Yeah, well, I haven't quite got that whole 'concept of time in a windowless room' concept yet."

"My head really hurts though."

"Bruise on the temple. Couple burn marks on the side of your neck."

She shook her head slowly in exasperation. "The problem with an enhanced physiology, is that it takes a little more oomph to put me down. You want to give me a reason I'm wondering why I'm on a rescue mission?"

"Because you love me?"

"I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea."

"I'm good in bed, so I have at least one reason."

His grin hitched up on the right side. The scruff was a little long, he smelled a little bad, but he was right. Jeff was stubborn. But she loved stubborn. "That's all the reason I need." There was a quick peck on his cheek, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Jeff? Why am I naked?"

"You're not naked, I laid a shirt over you when you came in. About the best I could do with you trussed up."

"Chivalry isn't dead." She mockingly rolled her eyes. "So, I'm naked, bound, and mildly amused. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Annie, I can think of a lot of things. But the rooms bugged and recorded."

"Anything here that I can cut this zip tie with?" Her knees came up to her chest and she wiggled around until her bound wrists were in front of her.

"Teeth."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, those chompers pierce skin, with a little extra effort plastic would cut fine."

"God I hate you." She crudely started working on the strong plastic, sighing to herself and what she was being forced to do. "Don't you dare say anything about this to anyone." Her voice was muffled, and he snorted and barely contained a laugh at the entire scene.

"Right…." She flexed and pulled, the chewing having weakened the plastic enough that the bonds broke. Her hands free, Annie took the shirt and pulled it over her head. The hemline made it down to her hips, and when she looked up at him and he gazed at her with mirth. "I kinda like this look."

"It's like you're a sex addict or something."

"I resent that."

"No, you represent that." The screech of the door being unlocked and opened spooked them both, and the shapes of a man and woman appeared in the entryway. The light glaring behind their captors made them both wince in pain. Adjusting as best they could, the couple saw both man and woman walk in with what Annie knew was malefic intent. She head the woman held chamber a round inside the pistol, the man had turned on the cattle prod in his hands.

"Both of you, hands in the air." The vampiress felt the hunger building in her, it happened whenever prey attempted to threaten her. But it was too soon to jump into action. They were outgunned for the moment, and Jeff would most likely die in the encounter, and Annie knew she was too weak to attack them. She'd have to wait.

"The girl stays, Winger, get your ass out there." Jeff looked to his lover woman, who simply nodded once. The thug with the prod tapped it against the doorway, a spark arching as it contacted the metal frame. "Boss wants a word alone with girly here." The tall man walked out of the small room, under the sights of the female guard.

"Jeff?" Annie's voice had found its strength. He turned, piercing her with his glare. "It's going to be okay. I promise." He gave her a slight smile and then walked away before he was pushed away by the gun-toting mercenary. She turned to the swarthy man and looked at him darkly. "Do you eat a lot of red meat?"

"Yeah? Why?" He grunted.

"I just wondered. I like to know what's on the menu."

"What's that s'posed ta mean." She giggled a menacing little giggle.

"Because vegetarians don't taste nearly as good."

"Huh?"

"Oh God, you're thicker than Troy. Let me say this in small, tiny words for you." She turned on the Disney face. "I'm going to rip out your entrails and relish in the taste of your blood." The guard stepped away from the door, the prod held out like a spear to ward her off. "I haven't fed in a while. And I like a little fat. Makes the meat sweeter." She shrugged, the effect was working. Intimidation was so much fun.

A new voice joined the conversation. "That'll be enough. You, get back to you post." The guard stepped way and nodded quickly, before walking away very swiftly. The voice was familiar, but she wasn't sure exactly from where. "Little Annie Edison, tell me something? What on Earth possessed you to come to the Windy City?"

"Hm."

A woman, taller and somewhat older than her (relatively speaking) walked into the cell, appraising Annie with hazel-green eyes. Her figure was lithe, wearing a pencil skirt and blouse. Confident with shoulders back and a slight smirk, the woman leaned against the cell door's frame with arms crossed. It was familiar, and it was slightly disturbing.

"How long has it been?"

And the voice had a name now. She'd never had enough exposure to the woman, but she knew who it was. "It's been a year or so, Professor Slater."

Michelle Slater's grin widened towards Annie, becoming sickly sweet and condescending. "Oh Annie, it's such a pleasure to see you again." Pushing away from the frame, she walked into the room and circled the shorter woman. "I was wondering which one of your little group was going to find me. I had bets on the idiot twins, maybe Britta, but not you."

"You're lying; you knew I'd do my best to find him." The taller woman shrugged her shoulders.

"Jeff and I had a nice reunion you know. He's still an amazing lay. No ice cream though. I figured you would have him trained. Then again, you've only known him a few years." She was behind Annie now, her lips near Annie's ear. "Granted, a little girl like you couldn't possibly please him like a grown woman with a more experience."

She let a small growl escape her. "What's your point Michelle?" She was tired of the games. The professor was babbling and she really didn't want to hear it.

"We can discuss this with civility _Annie_, it's just two women…well, two gals just gossiping after all. You used to gossip, didn't you?"

"Look, if you're going to ramble on all day, then at least tell me your evil plan. After that, you can spout whatever crap you want." Slater rolled her eyes at the woman and circled back around on the shorter woman. Annie was tired of the bluster. It was almost laughable, the absurdity of the situation. Michelle raised her hand and back handed her captive.

"You always were an impudent little whore." Annie sneered. The statistics professor was puzzling. The last thing she expected to hear was something like that.

"Slater, the last thing I'm going to have to worry about in my life is you. So, speak your mind, threaten me, and stop wasting my time." She smacked the centuries old girl again, and the vampiress was losing her self-control.

"You had everything. And you stole it from me. But now, now I'll take everything from you. Just like before. And then you'll realize that I will always win." Slater slapped her captive one more time, this time with a diamond ring facing outward. The sharp edge drew blood as it slashed across Elisabeta's cheek.

She stared at former professor as she held a hand to her bleeding wound. She had to control her emotions. She had to stay calm as her head and her heart were pounding with the only impossibility that stood in front of her. She'd heard this talk before, so many years before. Annie didn't want to speak the name, but she had to confirm it.

"Marga."

"Hello Elisabeta. History repeats it."

_No…nononono._ "How." _Stay confident, she can't see you break._

"Our Almighty came to the realization I was wrongfully judged."

"Hell was too good for you."

"Wrong! Radu and I burned for centuries! We deserved no punishment!"

"Your victim complex hasn't gone away." Elisabeta's other cheek burned as it was sliced open by the turned around ring on Slater's hand.

"You took everything from me! And you paraded it in front of me with your nose high in the air." Marga/Michelle closed the distance between to the two. "Now it's my turn. Jeff will be mine, and you'll watch me live out my life with him."

Elisabeta snorted in derision. "My God Marga, you always amaze me with how deluded you are. Do you _really_ think he'll just love you at the drop of a hat."

"He will, once he sees what a cheating whore you are. My men have seen you Elisabeta, I can see the lust in their eyes. When he sees you pleasuring them, letting them use you as a toy, then he'll turn to me for comfort." The taller woman turned and walked out of the room. At the doorway, she stopped and looked back at the bleeding woman. "I enjoyed watching you suffer under the priest, so many years ago. I only hope the humiliation worsens. Men it seems, and some women in fact, are so much crueler in this brave new world." The lights she had become accustomed to disappeared as the steel door closed, leaving Annie in the darkness.

* * *

The bleeding had stopped within minutes of Marga leaving the cell, and now she sat meditating on events. For the first time in five centuries, Annie was shaken to the core of her very being. Her pleas for mercy for Janos' release had caused her no end of emotional and physical pain, and to have it brought up by the woman responsible for her fall from grace was humiliating and excruciating. She'd seen so much in her time on Earth, but Marga's spirit possessing another woman of what was now apparently part of her bloodline made no sense.

_Jeff was right. I wasn't thorough enough. There's was someone I missed._ She cursed herself for her rush to vengeance. By the time she'd wiped out the whole bloodline, it had branched out too far. It was her own fault, she thought. And now Jeff was involved. The man she thought she was protecting was in danger from the woman who had caused so much strife in the guise of a former lover who had dropped him like the boy toy she used him as.

The steel door opened again and a body was thrown into the darkened cell. Her night vision showed contusions all over Jeff Winger's body. Lacerations and bruises from punches, shirt sliced in various places with the color of scarlet surrounding it. Gently lifting him up she placed him on the cot attached to the wall for further examination. Taking his sleeveless undershirt off, one she'd been reminded of from the _Die Hard_ movies, she searched his body and saw the various cuts. His torso had purple, red and yellow marks along the ribs she knew was going to be painful for him when he woke up. Her night vision was good, but she needed more light to make any proper examination. She heard him breathing in a quick rhythm and smoothed his rumpled hair, wanting to comfort him as much as possible.

He'd been right earlier, keeping track of time was difficult having been knocked out. She sat back down and closed her eyes, unsure of her options.

An indeterminate time had passed since his return. Her meditations usually went much deeper than where she was now, staying as aware of outside stimuli as possible. "Ow…" He moaned painfully as he slowly came back to the land of the conscious. She was back quickly, as quickly as she was when she slid over to him to sit by his prone form.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He turned to look towards the voice, and snorted quietly.

"I feel terrible." She saw the split lip, the black eye, the bloodied nose. "Next time, I get to pick the vacation spot. Did they hurt you?"

"What happened to me doesn't matter. Just lay still." She crawled around him, laying next to the man and taking both his hands in hers, threading his fingers through her own. The anger was festering again. Annie took a breath, and tried to focus on what truly mattered at the moment. The red haze faded, but it was simmering underneath her concern for the man she loved.

He coughed, groaning as each one wracked his battered body. "I just sorry I couldn't rescue you."

"God you're an idiot." The vampiress squeezed his hand, kissing the top of it softly. "I don't think I can get us out of this…."

"That's a great attitude. Can't you rip the door of the hinges?"

"I haven't fed in a few days. I can go a week normally if I don't exert myself. I don't have nearly enough power to pull something like that off those tracks."

"Can you make it out of here if I distract them?"

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I never said you should. Mortie's Steak House, remember?" She smiled at his horrible escape plan. "How much do you need?"

"How much what do I need?"

"What do you think? I'm pretty sure I'm looking appetizing right now." She caught on to his line of thinking, and it repulsed her. He was right though, he had a good idea but she couldn't do it to him. Not in his current condition.

"No."

He winced as the pain got to him again, but Jeff tried to sound strong. "Annie."

"I can't do that to you Jeff. You're too weak right now."

"Hey, I'm pretty beat up here. One more isn't going to do much." Now he squeezed her hand. "I'm not gonna pretend what they're going to do to us. Michelle's crazy."

"I could have told you that years ago." He guffawed followed by a painful groan.

"Bruised rib, don't make me laugh. Just do it. You can make it up to me later." Indecision crossed her mind. Marga would kill them both in the end, in some twisted order to make both of them suffer. "Elisabeta."

"Don't make me do this."

"Elisabeta, please."

"I'm Annie."

"You're whoever you need to be. I just…I...God I hate it when…I want to…I like you Annie, and I want more time." She was silent. For him to have said something like that was a herculean feat of epic proportions. "It's hard to say that. I mean it. I didn't fall in love with a name. I fell in love with a girl with a strange appetite. But we need to do this."

The words rocked her. Yes, he was in pain, and yes he wasn't thinking clearly enough to be conscious of his words. But the admission was true and sincere. There were no misspoken words. "Are you sure?"

"No. But we don't have much choice." She kissed him full on, despite the bruised lips. And she left his split lip to his jawbone, leaving feather soft kisses along the way then downward. The feeling of her lips on his skin dulled the pain. He missed this, she was so perfect at this.

"Forgive me." Annie whispered. Her canines elongated, curling ever so slightly. Her eyes went from cerulean to bastard amber in a flash. She smelled the musk and sweat, breathing the wonderful scent of him; she licked along his jugular, feeling the pulse of his heart. She closed her eyes, said a prayer, and sank her fangs into him.

Jeff shivered as she slid into his neck; the piercing of his skin burned followed by the strange sensation of the teeth slipping out gently from his skin, and replaced with a warm mouth and a wet sensation. She had kept hold of one of his hands, and he softly clinched it, giving her reassurance that it was the right thing to do.

He was sweet. The nectar she'd drawn from him was intoxicating and she wanted more, oh so much more. His scent combined with the lifeblood he was freely giving her drove her mad. Jeff Winger, simply put, was the most luscious drink she had ever tasted. It was almost too much to handle, and she would have killed for them to be alone; she would let him take her to such heights of pleasure as she slowly sipped him and would give him so much in return. The craving in general was subsiding, but she wanted so much more of this extraordinary liquid. Her mind was hazy with what was hitherto unknown bliss that it was difficult to stay focused. She had fed enough to get them out of danger; enough to give them more than a fighting chance.

He fell into a contented sleep as she pressed his t-shirt over the wound on his neck. Applying pressure, the wound would seal quickly. In hindsight she should have taken from his wrist, but the physical act of feeding had become so much more intimate after he offered her his own neck. Licking her lips, taking the last drops onto her tongue and shivering in delight, she kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Thank you so much." She was worried about him, because in order to make their escape, she would need to leave Jeff in the cell while she gathered her weapons and clothing; his vulnerable state was a cause for concern. Elisabeta rose to her full height, stretching the aching muscles, feeling the energy course through her body. She felt the cuts on her face heal, bruises disappeared, and the Taser marks faded. "I'll be back, my love."

The vampiress leaned against the door, feeling the steel and testing it for any give it may have. The door slid on a rail, with the steel pegs at least six inches on top of and the bottom of the metal plate, so pulling it from its tracks was not an option. She could break the lock, but it would leave Jeff open to attack. She'd have to depend on guile and speed in order to protect her sleeping charge, and despite her ignorance to the layout of the building she could sense where her gear was from the blueprint she and Abed had studied a day ago. Subtlety was going out the window as soon as she started whittling away at Marga's mercenaries, and she hoped it would enough to keep them distracted from returning to the cell to harm Jeff.

"God I hope this works."

She banged on the metal door several times, waiting for someone to open it. Minutes passed with no answer, so she went back to breathing exercises and meditation to help with her mental preparedness. Elisabeta was needed now. She placed Annie into the of her mind. She swapped personalities with a rapidity heard of only heard the deadbolts slide as keys jingled on the ring outside. It was time.

* * *

"Wha'sall…th…e..." The man stared at the nude woman in front of him, who smiled coyly back. Her hands behind her back, clasping them and pushing her chest forward, she unclasped them and stretched them out horizontally. The stretching was accompanied by large yawn that again pushed her rather bountiful gifts towards him again.

"I would like to speak to Michelle." The goon stared dumbly at his prisoner, capturing every curve of smooth pale skin with the occasional beauty mark. The woman peered into his eyes, and he could feel his heart pound in his chest and a hardening below his waist. The lady boss had promised him and two other men that they would taste the girl's honey pot tonight, and he was more than ready to ride her. The thug's mouth curved upward as he stepped forward and looked deeply into her widened blue eyes.

"Whatever you say baby." His gun pulled out, he let her exit the cell then locked the door behind the brunette. "Down the hall, don't try an'thin'." She nodded in understanding and walked slowly in front of him, sashaying her hips with each step, and he was hoping that she showed some side boob with each jiggle of her bosom. The man watched her then looked down a hallway at an open door and an empty room. He reasoned that she would be his entertainment for the evening before the party got a little more crowded, and the little tease was earning that rutting with each step. The brute grabbed her bicep and pulled her down the hall, throwing her into the small storage room and locked the door behind him. The little slut fell to the floor and huddled her knees to those boobs.

"Wha..what are you going to do to me?" He leered at her prone form on the ground. She was exquisite, save for the hair. He'd always been into blondes, but with a body like hers he didn't care. "Please, my father is a wealthy man." The woman…no, the girl in front of him was too tempting.

"How much he got?"

"He doesn't make much…but he'll pay you to keep me safe." The girl was shaking in fear. He'd been warned earlier that she was dangerous. Now this timid little mouse was going to get it, and she wouldn't harm a fly.

"Your daddy is going to have to pay a lot to stop my buddies and me." He leered at her little body.

The girl's big blue eyes started tearing up, and he was looking forwards to what he was going to do to her after he unbuckled his pants. "Please! You could read a good book! It'll help you!"

Putting the gun on one of the metal shelves and put his hands to his belt, pulling the tongue from its loop. The prong popped out of one of the holes and went out through the buckle. "Too bad I don't read."

She cringed as he approached. He'd make sure she'd have a "lovely" evening. "Then it's too bad for you, lover boy." The tears stopped, something wasn't right.

Elisabeta was up in an instant, striking the man in the face with the bottom of her palm. His nasal cavity collapsed from the force, and his head snapped backwards. The goon was dead in an instant as the bone fragments entered his frontal lobe, and she sized up his clothing. He was too big a proper fit but the pants and shirt would do the job with some quick rolling of the cuffs on the sleeves and legs; and she luxuriated in the feeling of having clothes on in public. The Woman walked out of the room, but not before kicking her would be rapist in the temple and watching his neck break sideways.

And Elisabeta had to admit it felt good. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry when killing a man with a blow to the face.

With the added excited energy from her exertion, her situational awareness was expanded beyond her normal sphere. She focused her hearing to the immediate area, sensing a few sentries but nothing too serious. She peeked around corners, she made every step as quiet as possible on the hardened floor (she loved being barefoot on occasion and this was one time it was useful), she scanned every hallway for electronic surveillance and countermeasures. Closing her eyes she brought the mental map of the warehouse to the forefront of her memory, and started placing markers where the breathing and heartbeats were coming from. Elisabeta looked around the next corner with utmost care and saw two more targets sizing them and their equipment up. The intersection of the hallway was twenty feet from the door, guarded by bored mercenaries with little to do.

"Pardon me?" The vampiress stepped out from behind the corner. The man and woman turned their heads just as she blurred, reappearing behind the man and twisting his neck fully around. He made a strangled noise as his windpipe Many times she chuckled at the movies portrayal of breaking the neck of a person by turning their the head as quickly and as far as possible to the right or left.  
What was never taken into account was the amount of muscles that prevented such a thing from taking place. And in many cases, the person doing the attempted murder of another didn't have the physical strength to pull off such a feat.

Elisabeta Vintila had no such limitations. Her enhanced physiology allowed her many more options, and with enhanced strength came advanced movements and creative attacks.

To the female thug's horror, the attacker literally ripped her comrade's head off, causing a fountain of blood to geyser out of his neck. And attached to the head was several vertebrae, making a useful handle for the supposed younger woman to flail her victims head and batter the other woman's skull. There was a loud thunk as flesh and bone met flesh and bone, and the mercenary dropped hard onto the floor, unconscious. By then, the man's body had fallen to the ground and spurted diminishing amounts of the crimson fluid. Dropping the improvised weapon with a mild taste of disgust, she took stock of the situation.

There was a lot of blood. A _lot_ of blood she knew looked tastier than it should, the smell of iron hitting her nostrils, Elisabeta felt the hunger surge again. Pushing it aside, knowing that the large mess was too big to hide, she ran into the store room where her belongings and been thrown inside haphazardly. She couldn't help but smile that it was all there. Quickly pulling on the blue bodysuit, she sheathed both weapons and strapped her belt on and pulled satchel over her head and shoulder. She wanted to take the coat, but it wasn't a particularly essential piece of clothing at this time.

The vampiress quickly made her way back to the containment area and pulled the cell door open and found Jeff on the bed. She could see he still had the ragged t-shirt against neck, but she was right that the bleeding had subsided. She wanted to find Marga and her accomplices and finish her self-appointed search and rescue mission. Elisabeta hated them for making her take life from her lover. But she need to get Jeff to the private, discreet clinic she'd set up in the city as she'd predicted was needed. She pulled back the shirt and felt his pulse, timing his breathing and listening for any rasping in his breathing.

"What took you so long?" He rasped. The taller man was holding the side of his body and his breathing was still pained and shorter than normal; she examined him earlier in the low light and saw the bruising and it was worse now. It was a miracle his ribs weren't broken, but their captor probably wanted him hurt and in pain and alive. His abuse at Marga's hands, she took as an insult, and in the stereotypical fashion it was something she would not allow to go unpunished. She crouched to the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair and smiling.

"Your ribs still hurt?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No."

"How much longer you going to be?"

"I don't time massacres."

He let out a pained laugh. "Right about now, the Riviera sounds nice."

"You're going to have to heal up first." Elisabeta put her hand on his forehead and repeated the smoothing back of his hair. She leaned down to the satchel and pulled out her medical kit and found the small syringe full of clear fluid. Pushing the plunger and letting a small amount of medicine squirt up and out of the needle, she uncurled his arm and found a vein. "This'll make you a little drowsy, but you'll feel better." She took the t-shirt again and pressed it against the inside of his elbow.

"You'd make a good nurse."

"I know. Sleep now. I'm gonna go take care of the bad guys."

"My hero." She stood up and pulled the Colt from her holster, chambered a round and set it down on the cot near his hip.

"I'll jam the door. It should keep everyone but me out. But promise me that you'll shoot anyone that comes into this room."

Walking towards the door, she stopped at his next question. "What about you?" Looking over her shoulder, she flashed a classic 'Annie Smile.'

"I've taken a .308 to the shoulder and a .45 to the stomach within an hour of each other. I think I can survive a few potshots from that pea shooter."

He wished he could have a notch area for her smiles on the table.

* * *

Michelle Slater was not happy. So far, she'd gutted one subordinate for failure and then had another putting nail polish on her toes. The gutted man, whose entrails were currently cooling in the waters of Lake Michigan, had reported the deaths two of her agents and the cracked skull of the third. She had to give her rival credit though, using a man's spine and skull as a flail took some ingenuity. And Elisbeta had always been innovative; one more reason Marga hated the woman.

She was unsure how she found her way into the mind and body of her descendent. She would never truly know nor would she care, all that mattered was this new chance at life. Her first day in her new body nearly gave her a heart attack. Strange carriages with no horses, women wearing pants, buildings rising hundreds of feet in the air; it had all been too much to handle that day. She stayed indoors in the unfamiliar yet luxurious surroundings for the rest of the day, if not for the week.

Over the course of the year, Marga learned enough to know that the world she knew had changed for the better for her malicious devices. There were more people, but there was more opportunity to exploit what she could. This Michelle, she found out, had friends. And Marga pitted those friends against each other, testing the boundaries of what was possible with these new playthings. She pushed and pulled them in every direction emotionally and mentally, until the strains on the relationships resulted in the death of a person. At that point, Marga quietly moved on to a larger city. She found ways to make money and live in high society, she found people to do her dirty work in order to shape the world around her in the image she wanted.

And then one day, she saw footage of a paintball game at the college her host body once worked for. And in one frame, she saw the visage of the woman who ruined her life covered in yellow paint wearing a rather provocative outfit. Marga fainted from shock. Her current lover had found her lying on the floor, and helped the woman come back to the land of consciousness. She searched Michelle's memories and discovered the identity of one Annie Edison, who incidentally was infatuated with a man much like Janos Vintila. That night, Marga murdered her lover, drained his accounts and moved to Chicago.

Here she was now, once again in control with little Elisabeta Vintila in her clutches. It was a dream come true, and the cherry on top was that she could destroy the younger woman while seducing her reincarnated husband. Yes, she would abuse Elisabeta and watch her fall from grace all over again with so much glee.

The man applying toenail polish, upon looking at her toes, was doing a poor job at best. She smiled saccharine sweetly, then kicked the man in the face for some quick gratification. "You people are idiots." Marga sighed in frustration as her "henchman" clutched his face and stalked out of the room. She turned in her chair to look at her accomplice. "This is all your fault, you know."

"You just don't like taking responsibility." Marga sneered at his implication with utter contempt.

"No. This. Is. Your. Fault! Your horny frat boys fucked this up."

"We just had someone speed up the process and he failed. Didn't you want her to suffer? "

"I want her to suffer more than you will ever know. And you have _no_ idea how much. I had this planned perfectly, and you just hired some dumbass of the street who can't keep his dick in his pants."

The man shrugged, picking up a picture of a naked Annie Edison from earlier in the day after her capture. "Seems a waste of time to me, was she really that bad?"

"You don't know what she did to me. You don't know how she rubbed her perfect life in my face. And then she attacked me with no provocation after her husband died for treason!"

"That doesn't quite make sense. It sounds like a persecutory delusion to me. It's easily treatable with medicine." The man pulled out a pocket book and rustled through the pages. "See? This little pill here would work wonders."

Marga stood and slapped the book out of his hands. "Don't you want him dead too?"

"I don't know about that…."

Marga rolled her eyes. "You insipid little man. Jeff Winger used you to seduce this little slut."

"And you think I don't know that?"

"Obviously you haven't grasped the concept yet. Oh, but let me guess, you're just such a nice guy that you had to help him out of the goodness of your heart?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, yeah?"

"I keep forgetting what you bring to the table sometimes." He said nothing. "You know what? Why don't you go sweep her off her feet, she's old enough for you now." Marga grabbed him by the chin and jaw and raised his head to meet her eyes. "You should just go and fuck her. God knows that everyone else wants to."

"I thought I'd take her out to dinner first- Hey!" The woman slapped him, tired of his antics.

"The people of this time…you all annoy me. In my day, Radu would bring a peasant girl home by force or just take her virginity in the field for spoils. The little whores usually deserved it."

"Things are a little different here. I told you that when we started working together."

Marga closed her eyes in exasperation. _Then maybe our partnership is at an end._

* * *

Her falx was out and deflecting a bullet that pinged off the blade while Elisabeta's short sword flew through the air into the chest of one of her attackers, dropping him instantly with a wet gurgle. The other gunman toggled a switch and turned the pistol onto full automatic, and a spray of bullets flew down the hallway towards the swordswoman. She launched herself into a door, breaking through into a room to avoid the spray of hot lead. Rolling into a crouch, Elisabeta glanced around the room to find two women with the same model firearms lounging with cups of coffee. She stared at them as they both turned towards her in shock.

The moment passed, and all three women started moving as the gunman walked into the room. The vampiress acted quickly, swinging the sickle-like weapon around and catching the man in the side of the knee. The blade cut through skin and the force of the hit bent the joint horizontally inward, causing enough stress on the patella to collapse the leg of gunman. He dropped the machine pistol into her hand, which she swung around and pulled the trigger on the rising pair. Peppered with bullets, both ladies fell to the ground twitching and groaning. The man next to Elisabeta tried crawling over, but the she had the firearm in his face and switched to semiautomatic. She double tapped the trigger, ending his life instantly with two bullets to the forehead.

She sighed and shook her head at the carnage while picking herself up from the linoleum. There was no need for the senseless loss of life this evening. Elisabeta was ruthless when she was dispatching people, but there was no reason to make them suffer horribly, save Marga. But each and every one of these people had made their decision to fight against her, thus signing their own death warrant. Stalking over to her unwitting assailants, she double tapped them both as well. In disgust of the weapon in her hands, she threw the machine pistol to the ground and went to retrieve her sapphire studded blade.

Elisabeta was tired of this act, and reached into her satchel. The white ivory mask with red teardrop had a familiar feel as she strapped it over her face. It was time to inspire fear, maybe give these people a chance to run.

* * *

Marga grimly watched the monitor as the cold-blooded bitch in the white mask stalked down the hallway towards the shipping office where she had set up the pseudo-command center. The woman was intimidated, so much so that she'd placed two guards in the rafters of the main storage facility and two guarding the door to the office. She'd promised obscene amounts of money she knew that she'd never have to pay out as they'd all be dead before the evening was out. With a heavy sigh, she placed a call to her partner. He didn't have the testicular fortitude for the request she was about to ask, but he would make a great distraction. Maybe he'd man up, something she'd seen only when he was stressed beyond belief.

Because if Elisabeta was on a murdering rampage, that meant that Janos…no…Jeff was unguarded. And that was exploitable.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I started this before that _Underworld_ movie came out earlier this year/late last year. _Really_ not a fan of the series, in fact, I barely made it through the first movie. Annie is not a death dealer, or whatever Kate Beckinsale was. But then, she does deal death rather handily, what do you expect of character who masquerades as "The Blood Countess," to her enemies.

If you want an idea of what her outfit kinda looked like, watch _My Alibi_ where she's damn sexy and freaking awesome. What can I say, pulling costumes of Alison from her past work is always good inspiration.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

He wasn't feeling any better, but the painkillers helped. She'd jammed the lock before she left and he'd tried to open it to no avail, so no one was going to get in or out. But it didn't make him feel any safer. This wasn't a dream, this wasn't an act, this wasn't a paintball tournament. So Jeff lay on the cot, looking up at the ceiling. The gun in his hand was different from the paintball guns he'd used with merciless efficiency, or the prop guns whose weights were nearer to the real thing. The real gun didn't feel right though. This was a tool used to kill; there simply was no other purpose for it. And he was sure he couldn't do something like that. He couldn't take a life.

But he wanted live.

Could he kill?

The door rattled, startling Winger who drew the gun and pointed it at the entryway. Her voice started whispering in his ear. _… shoot anyone that comes into this room._ Easy for her to say. He'd never even used a real gun, due to lack of a father to take him shooting. Pulling himself up and leaning into corner of the cupboard and the cot, Jeff kept the firearm at the ready while the metal door jostled again. Surely no one could get through the jammed door; Annie had to have found a way to keep him secure.

There was mumbling outside the door, or what he thought was mumbling when it was more like muffled voices; crackling and sparks appeared around the lock, and he knew he was in trouble. Jeff had only a few minutes, and he was in no condition to attempt to fight his way out of the cell. He could only wait as the welder cut its way through the metal. Suddenly the door opened, and a figure appeared, surrounded by a halo of light shining from outside in the hall.  
"Hello?"

The voice of the damned had once more come to antagonize him. "Doc Pottery Barn."

"I was just coming to check on you my friend."

"I'm sure you were. Cracked ribs must be a perk to that wonderful bedside manner." He cocked the pistol, waiting for his nemesis to step forward.

"They got a little overzealous, but I really was coming in to check up on you. And seeing as Annie's not here, I figured you could use the company." Rich took a slow step forward. "Seriously, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure you had about three guys beat the living shit outta me. And don't forget this _after_ you shanghai me to…wherever we are."

"Chicago. Home of the Bears and the Cubs. Always been a big fan of the Cubbies."

"Whatever."

"Come on Jeff. No need to be a doggie downer." Rich pulled a firearm from behind his back, and pointed it at Winger. "Now the question is, do you have the physical strength to hold that gun in your hand for a while."

Rich was right, he was always right. Jeff was already straining already, and he wasn't sure he'd actually hit the doctor. "Why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"We're going to see Michelle, she's 'requested an audience' with you. I always thought you two made a great couple." Rich's gun went off, and a hole appeared in the wall behind Winger, his ear just barely grazed by the bullet. The dismissed lawyer dropped the gun, startled, and grabbing the grazed lobe.

"I guess I don't really have a choice."

"You always have a choice Jeff. You just have to make the right one." Rich motioned with the gun, and Jeff slowly got to his feet.

"She's going to kill you, you know."

The medicine man smiled, spreading his arms out. "Oh come on now, I'm too much of a nice guy."

"Couldn't happen to a better guy." Winger chuckled, holding his aching ribs.

* * *

She was in the warehouse proper, and Marga had certainly put on a good front business for her little venture. Elisabeta had rummaged through one of the boxes, finding horribly made stuffed animals found at carnivals. She was stalking again, listening for breathing, for heart beats, for any whisper. The woman scanned the area, when a cold dread washed over her.

She heard the bolt of a rifle sliding a cartridge into the receiver. Her comrades in the platoon she traveled with in the War would called it a chambered round.

The rafters; Marga had actually thought of placing snipers in the rafters. Elisabeta froze in place. Every sniper she'd met knew to inhale, exhale, and pull the trigger. Normal hearing would never pick up the sound a person's breath, but she could hear it. She had seconds remaining, but there was an echo in the exhalation. She could take a round to the chest, she healed at an astounding rate, but a head shot would end her life just as easily as it would a normal human. She strained her hearing, and picked up what she needed. The decision was made.

* * *

The woman in charge had sent him up into the rafters of the warehouse, much to his annoyance; but he was hired for his rifleman skills, and he'd been promised a large bounty for the proposed target. She sent him up into his nest more than an hour ago, and he was starting to slip into sleep when he heard footsteps on the concrete floor below. Looking through the scope, he saw a slip of a woman in a blue body suit and what looked like a white mask. Surely this wasn't the target, not this young girl. She was too innocent, too young; the mask was disturbing but she was hardly a danger to anyone.

He wasn't paid to make these decisions, and as much as he was reluctant to take the shot his target was quite the payday. The shooter adjusted the scope, and took a bead on her body, aiming for the heart and perhaps the spinal cord. There was no reason to make her suffer.

Years in the military had taught him certain techniques for precision marksmanship. The man took a deep breath, let it out, and started pulling back on the trigger. At that moment, he saw her turn and look directly into his eyes.

And she disappeared from sight.

And he felt something pointy against the back of his neck.

"You have two choices." The gunman had no clue how she'd made it to the nest. But it wasn't a pressing concern, the pointed metal object ready to slide through his neck was the priority. Her voice was soft yet menacing. He didn't turn his head but he looked to his right, and through his perphrial saw an expressionless ivory face with a blood red tear falling from one eye. "One, you take your finger off the trigger, pack up your rifle, and only use it for deer hunting after you're far away from here."

"And the other one?" He whispered.

"I kill you, slowly."

"I would like to take the first option."

The piecing tip of the knife left his neck, and he got a good look at the shapely, deadly woman in the mask. He wasn't sure if it was the fact she snuck up on him so quietly, so quickly. Or if it was the black eye holes that he couldn't see behind. The mask nodded sedately. "Good choice. How many of you are there."

"Me and another person. Other side of the warehouse."

"He had no line of sight on you?"

"No."

"No wonder you haven't asked him to shoot you in case of capture."

"Will you kill him?

"Would you care?"

"Nah, Nelson's a jackass. He'd kill his own mother for a buck."

"Leave the rifle."

"Don't have to tell me twice." The man slipped away from her and the nest, and she picked up the weapon. Judging the heft and feeling for the trigger weight, she scoped the second sniper with ease. She hated snipers. She'd seen enough friends killed by sharpshooters during the Second World War. When she caught one, the Blood Countess came forth, and tortured them mercilessly. She knew she was a hypocrite though as there was a marksman on her small squad that she'd fought with.

But tonight, this man would die by her hands because of the associates he kept. In the many centuries she'd been alive, she'd had a good sense of people. True, certain individuals she couldn't read; but this man would have raped her with pleasure. And men and women like that deserved their deaths.

He was in her sights. Exhaling and holding the heavy rifle steady with practiced ease, she pulled the trigger. The thundering sound that should have echoed across the warehouse was suppressed, and the only sound of the shot was the tinkling of the empty cartridge on the ground below her. Through the scope, she saw the body fall the twenty-some odd feet. Elisabeta swept the rifle around the storage area, looking for anything that would cause her additional grief. The sweep was slow, but yielded results when she found the two guards and the office. And through the window was Marga, sitting at a beat up desk and writing.

She wanted to take the shot, ached to do in the bitch that ruined her life. But Marga deserved a more fitting end, one that should have fallen upon her centuries past. No, she would cut her down with her Janos' falx. It was only proper.

As the woman lowered the rifle she saw the hint of another person moving around in the office. Curiosity piqued, she raised her mask and put her eye to the lens.

Jeff.

He was standing in Marga's office, a gun in his back held by a new individual who she couldn't place as his (he was male) face was obscured. So there was an accomplice. And he was holding the Colt pistol.

_Now there will be hell to pay. _

The Accomplice was holding two things dear to her heart, and he wouldn't be escaping. Anger swept across her face and her eyes changed from blue to yellow. She had controlled her fury as much as she could during this escapade. This whole mission had been personal, and with every death she'd stuffed the feelings into a mental closet that had held the rage. But the closet was full now; and there wasn't enough room for the rest of that ferocity. Elisabeta took a moment, closed her eyes once more, and initiated the breathing exercises that would calm her. Opening them again, she felt the urges and madness lessen into a more stable control. She adjusted the scope and pressed the trigger. The first guard was down. She chambered another round and pulled the trigger again, and his comrade was gone too.

* * *

Marga saw both men drop dead, and realized that Annie was upon them. "Your girlfriend is here."

"Bet that just riles you up, doesn't it Michelle."

"Do you have any idea what she did to me?" The woman that was Michelle Slater stepped forward and showed him her wrist. He'd seen it several times when he'd lavished kisses on Michelle, who would melt under him. But there were now two small marks over the vein running up and down her arm. "This is the monster's work. She tortured me after her husband was executed for treason. And then she slaughtered an entire town for the slight of dismissing her for the person she truly was."

"You have to admit Jeff, Annie's story never quite added up." Winger's fingers curled into a fist, his arm drawing back then launching at Rich. Stephenson's forearm was up in and instant to block; in reply, Rich flipped the pistol, holding it by the slide and barrel and struck Jeff with the butt end of the grip. "Idiot."

The tall man staggered to the right and caught hold of one of the chairs. His forehead was bleeding with an open gash dripping blood down the side of his face on the left. His trademark grin appeared despite the situation and he started laughing slowly, becoming increasingly maniacal and crazed.

"You should just kill me right now."

"I'm okay with that Michelle, you?" Rich butted in on the conversation.

Marga/Michelle Slater shook her head. "Men are such idiots. Rich, if he moves, hit him again. But I refuse to waste bullets on him." She sighed in frustration. "I wish Radu was here to see your impudence. He'd agree that your death was worth the trouble we went through. " She motioned to the doctor. "Hit him again. Make it painful."

He took Jeff by the shirt, getting a good grip, then pistol whipped him in the mouth. The butt of the gun caught him in the back of the jaw, knocking him onto the ground. Marga leaned down, taunting him with that low sultry voice he now despised and once loved. "Did she tell you what I really did to her? Did she tell you what she did to try and get her beloved husband released?"

Jeff knew. And it disgusted him.

"I made little Miss Perfect suffer for her pride. I particularly loved when the mayor and clergy men had her in chains and took their time with her. She took it on her knees, from behind, on her back; such a dedicated young woman. I watched each time."

"You know what?" Jeff spat out blood and saliva on the floor and turned his head to look her in the eyes. "I knew Michelle was mess. But you've gone beyond that and hit the 'sick bitch level.'"

"Rich." The tall man, on his hands and knees shook his head and laughed again as Rich stomped down near the bruised ribs. It was followed by swift kick to the kidneys, and the doctor smiled the whole time.

He was in a lot of pain. In all his life, he'd avoided fighting with the gift of a silver tongue. He was able to talk his way out of anything, but this was the first time it wasn't going to work. Jeff thought to himself that this was worth it, to keep them distracted while Annie did her thing. What that thing was, he didn't want to imagine; but the distraction had a penalty of finding out what Doc Do-No-Wrong was capable of. The man knew anatomy and pottery after all. And he was putting it to good use.

"You're just as soft as Janos was. What Michelle and I ever saw in you is beyond me. Hand me your gun please, Dr. Stephenson." She took the pistol by the grip and pulled back the slide. "Last time, I burned him at the stake. This time? Well…I've changed my mind and I'm just going to fill you full of holes." Marga pulled the trigger, and shot him in through the soft tissue of his calf. He cursed at her through the pain and agony. "I didn't think I'd enjoy this so much." Jeff now knew she was avoiding bones as the next bullet skimmed his bicep, burning the flesh and creating another wound. "Call her out Jeff."

"Fuck…you." He gritted through clenched teeth, the pain unbearable. She took a booted foot and officially broke the ribs.

And then the door shattered.

"Marga!" Annie was a woman possessed. Her fangs bared, her eyes almost glowing. Her nose picked up on the unique scent of his blood, almost overpowering her and her cravings. She looked at where he lay, breathing heavily with his face bruised and bloodied. Crimson fluid flowed; welts and swelling covered exposed areas of body. She heard the hammer of the pistol fall and dodged three bullets shot at her by her nemesis. Rich tried to grab her but she'd blurred out of existence, reappearing behind him; she kicked the back his knees, knocking him to the floor.

Slater smiled, pointing the gun at Winger's head. "Our guest arrives. There was a two point five percent chance you'd be dead by now. But I was hoping to see you one last time."

"You're going to burn for what you did here today."

"I doubt that. But I can still make you suffer."

"Why." It wasn't a question so much as a demand.

The older woman shrugged. "You took Janos from me. You pulled yourself from the ditch you lived in and made something of yourself. Elisabeta, my dear friend, you had everything so easy."

"I said this so many years ago Marga, and it still applies. You stupid, insipid, idiotic fat cow. You are so deluded that I almost take pity on you." She grabbed Rich by the hair, yanking his head back. "Let. Jeff. Go." He felt a sharp point in his back, and Rich squeaked.

"Go ahead and kill him, he was a wonderful puppet."

The genial man's eyes bulged. "What!"

Marga shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry Rich." Elisabeta did the same, before taking her short sword and thrusting it through his chest. Doctor Rich Stephenson gasped as the blade slid through him with little resistance. The older woman cocked her head and shrugged again. "Pity. So many pawns lost today."

"You didn't have to do this."

"Have you learned nothing of me, dearest Elisabeta? The head games and power struggles are like the mulled wine I enjoy. They are exquisite in their flavor and consistency. I thrive on them. And you were always such a rich, beautiful target." Marga waved the gun at Jeff and kicked him in the ribs again. "When they defiled you in your misguided attempts to win _his_ freedom," her pointed, high heeled shoe drove into Winger's side again, "I reveled in it."

"I'm not going to repeat myself, Marga. Let him go and you'll not suffer."

"If I have to go back to Hell, the very least I can do is make sure your life is miserable." She pulled the trigger and put another round in Jeff, disabling his shoulder. She dropped the gun and pulled out a wooden stake. "I remember the warnings our elders gave us. Vampires die when you stake them in the heart. You die and I'll let him live."

Approaching Annie, Slater raised the stake and rested the sharpened point against the younger woman's chest over her heart. Elisabeta stared at the older woman with a blank, expressionless look. "This won't change anything. You're still going to die." Marga grabbed the mallet from the desk.

"And this won't hurt a bit Elisabeta. Rest now, dear friend." Their eyes were locked, contempt in Marga's, steely resolve in Annie's. The hammer blow was swift, but the blue body suit didn't rip, didn't puncture. The vampiress smiled at the disbelieving professor. "How!"

"You would never understand the science." Elisabeta's hand shot out and grasped the villainess' neck. Marga saw the malevolence in her opposite's eyes and realized how deeply in trouble she was now in. "Just think, I could squeeze the life out of you." She threw the older woman across the room and sneered. "But I'm done killing." Slater's body crumpled when it hit the wall of the office, landing on the floor with a loud (and hopefully painful, Elisabeta thought) thump. The shorter brunette bent to her knees near her lover and helped him up slowly by his uninjured shoulder. Jeff coughed out a bit more blood and looked at her with one black and one unswollen eye, wincing as she found a comfortable position to help him walk out.

"Couldn't cut it closer?"

"You look tasty and tenderized, don't push it." He snorted and groaned again.

"You're making me laugh again. Kinda hurts doing that."

She nodded, smiled and looked at him with her bright sparkling blue eyes. "Time to go home." But Annie heard rustling and an anguished yell.

"No!" A shot rang out, and Annie closed her eyes, knowing she'd survive the bullet wound but hating the monotony of dealing with another unnecessary bullet wound in her recent past. The twinge of pain never came, for as she opened her eyes, she saw Jeff's chest. She saw the lump, the red falling down wife beater from his surprised mouth. The height of the bullet was at her forehead. And Annie looked up to his pained face. His eyes were frozen in dread as he slumped in her extended arms. As he fell, over his shoulder, she saw Michelle Slater grinning. Marga pulled the trigger again, but both women heard the hammer click. Her finger pressed against the trigger several times, despite the slide frozen from a lack of ammunition. The clip ejected, and there was nothing left to fire. A crazed look crossed Marga's eyes followed by a laughter only the insane could manage.

Annie had never felt utter rage like this before, and over the centuries she had experienced a vast amount of fury. But this broke all records. She laid her lover down quickly, then darted towards her rival, lashing at the demented woman holding the empty firearm. Annie didn't care. Jeff was going to die, like Janos before him, and she would slay this woman and banish her back to the depths of Hell. She knocked Marga to the floor, flat on her back and the wind knocked out of her.

Marga realized her mistake when she felt the bones in her arm disintegrate due to the stomping of a booted foot. "You have made your last mistake Marga Steopen!" The boot pressed against the woman's forehead, and Elisabeta wanted so much to press down harder. "I would ask for a reason to let you live, but you crossed that line so many years ago."

Tears streaming from her eyes, Marga rasped in pain. "Forgive me!"

"Ha!" Annie reached down and once more picked up Michelle by her neck. Lifting the injured woman, she held her above her head and laughed again. "Goodbye Marga." Her fangs bared once more, Elisabeta viciously bit into her rival's neck, mauling it; she held the wiggling woman who was furtively trying to escape, and snapped the woman's spine. She drank deeply one last time from her enemy then threw the body away and rushed back to Jeff.

Jeff couldn't move. He couldn't catch his breath despite gasping for air. He was lying on the floor after taking a bullet meant for Annie's head. He felt it burn into his back and explode inside him. He'd never felt this much pain before, and he begged to let the aching stop. Winger felt the cottony feeling in his head, and his vision was tunneling. When he'd been laid down by her, he looked at the fluorescent lighting above and focused on it. And then her beautiful face flooded his vision and he did his best to smile.

"Don't leave me."

_Not gonna,_ he said, but all that came out was a rasping gurgle. He felt Annie grasp his hand, and saw the bright-eyes that he'd fallen hard for two years ago.

"Don't you dare leave me Jeff Winger." He tried to raise his hand, to wipe away her tears, but he couldn't muster the strength. He hated when she cried. The tall man wanted to comfort her. But he couldn't breathe, he was gulping what air he could to no avail. The light above him was dimming, but he was straining to hear the voice of an angel pleading to whatever was out there to keep him alive.

"…l…v…y..u…"

And Jeff Winger was no more.

* * *

Annie Edison was dead inside. In the past forty-eight hours she'd killed no fewer than twenty people, had their bodies and the building containing them vaporized, and watched the love her life die in her arms. Suffice to say, the wine in her hand would not help in drinking herself into oblivion. She would need something a lot stronger, and her mind wandered to the absinthe she kept stored for such an occasion.

She blamed herself. Everything that had happened to Jeff from the moment she revealed her true nature to him and afterwards had been her fault, directly or indirectly. Annie knew guilt. It had a small home carved out of her chest where it rested comfortably, but it had doubled since the day before, and was currently not welcome in her heart.

No one from the group knew. She'd walked Abed through cancelling the lockdown in Colorado on her various terminals with no one in the group the wiser. The elaborate plan to keep them safe had been successful and now the only bright point in her life was that they emerged unharmed. The holiday season was upon them, and another adventure would probably take place, but she wanted no part of it. Her world had collapsed, and this time there was nowhere she could go for revenge.

The wine bottle was half empty, so she let the crystal glass drop to the floor without a second thought.

She stood watching the skyline of Chicago in silence. The penthouse was one of the most expensive in the Windy City, and made a great bolt hole, on top of one of the tallest buildings. In actuality it was an office building, which afforded her privacy in the evenings yet gave her full service to top quality commercial services.

Looking to the south, she saw the smoldering ruins of the riverfront warehouse she'd recently had destroyed. It had been essential to cover up the events of what happened there, to cover up any activity that would result in increased attention and possible jail time. And with the destruction of that site, the last loose end from her previous life had been removed. But what had she to look forward to?

Lost in her thoughts, she still heard the elevator ping in the pseudo-lobby of the floor. Few people had been given access to this location, and Annie had a good idea who this was. Jack Jacobs, she saw in the soft reflection of the window, entered the room quietly and sat the documents in his hands table. Removing the large coat to prevent the cold and chill coming off the massive lake, he laid it on the chair and passed a folder to her. She sat the second wine glass down and nodded at her visitor.

"The fire department said the blaze was self-contained. There were no questions asked after speaking with the fire chief. They also appreciate the donation to their Widows Fund as well as the night training opportunity. "

"Thank you Jack. The site is prime real estate that we can donate to the YMCA."

He mulled it over. "Nice tax write-off." She turned to him, looking at the folder on the desk.

"I didn't do it for that. It's an institution I believe in, and I've always had a thing for helping where I can."

"Dad said the same about you." She scanned the documents for several moments, and then signed where required on several pages.

"You'll find the Colt in its box. I apologize for its usage." Jacobs lifted the lid of the ornate wooden box, nodding his head seeing every piece was in place. "I've also wired money into your account. I would ask that you allow me the privilege of keeping you as a retainer and advisor, if you will?"

"We owe you, Ms. Barnes, it would be _our_ privilege. And thank you for returning his sidearm." Annie finished quickly then closed the file.

"You're welcome. We'll talk about the arrangements after the new year."

Jack nodded, taking the presented folder. "Of course. Have a…happy holidays."

"Mm." Snyder knew when he wasn't needed. He was sincere about his family's duty to her for a debt decades old. The vampiress heard the elevator ding and the man depart. She was alone again, wherein she lifted the glass once more and finished the wine, then threw it to the ground.

A tear fell down her cheek. She promised herself she wouldn't cry.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Richard Laybourne was a man who was used to being in control. He was a man who was used to getting his way, and the recent attempt at recruitment of Troy Barnes had turned into a spectacular failure. Despite the boy's talent, he could not be swayed to joining the Air Conditioner Repair program. And it was defiance as such that the Vice Dean was unaccustomed to. He'd first heard of Barnes when he joined the pathetic football team that parasite Pelton had recruited him for. It was Barnes' second year when his true potential shone through. Plumbing was plebian, but air conditioner repair was a higher, nobler calling. Sending out his feelers, they had observed that several people were influencing the boy; and it was these influences that were holding young Mr. Barnes from his true potential.

Barnes would be his in the end. It was his associates that would need to be dealt with.

It was on this evening that he was retiring to his rather lavish office that his mind was wondering to the upcoming seminar that was sure to give him a large speaker's fee. Unlocking one of the doors to his office, he flipped the switch that turned on an elegant pole lamp. Noting the lamp didn't blink on, he tried again. On the third flip, the light snapped on with a soft glow.

It was the wrong lamp.

The high back desk chair was turned, which was contradictory to how it normally was facing to the side. And he sensed a presence that he'd never felt in his rather spacious office.

"So, who is the man or woman I'm going to destroy tonight?"

"Vice Dean Laybourne, courtesy states you should at least say something nicer when greeting a visitor." The voice sounded innocent and sweet, not saccharine or naïve.

Laybourne shrugged his shoulders. "Well, courtesy also dictates you make an appointment first."

"And I acknowledge the faux pas; my sincerest apologies, but I felt that this meeting would be better served with my current seating arrangement. Do sit down." The voice was confident, the woman was rather sure of her current position of power. The door snapped shut, so she obviously knew about the button under the desk. He knew she was smart. Humoring the mystery visitor, he sat in one of the lush guest chairs, sitting back and lounging in the large cushions. The last thing Laybourne was going to do was take this uninvited visitor seriously.

"To what do I owe the pleasure." His chair spun around and Richard couldn't help but be surprised with the visitor. She was slip of girl. Determined blue eyes, a dazzling smile, her smart and expensive business wear. "I think I just figured it out. Ms. Edison."

"Vice Dean. I'm here tonight to speak with you on rather important matter."

"I can guess."

"Oh really?" She arched an eyebrow and leaned over the top of the desk, her fingers steepled. "Do you _really_ think you can guess what I'm here about?"

"Young lady, I promise you that when we are done here tonight, after you make your supposed accusations, you will be expelled from this institution."  
"Hmph. You have it all figured out?"

"I stay five steps ahead over everyone."

"Indeed. First, you will stay away from Troy Barnes. Any future contact _not_ initiated by him will result in certain documents being presented to the Board of Directors. And trust me when I say I will make an air-tight case for your removal and the criminal charges that will be brought against you."

"Fair enough. Though it is his loss."

"He's a young man who is allowed to choose his own path. Secondly, you will stop any and all interference with the running of Greendale Community College proper. The terms originally agreed upon in regards to the allocation of funds will go back into effect-" The vice dean stood up and loomed over his desk, pointing a large finger at Annie. For her part, she sat there with a blank look on her face.

"How dare you-"

"Oh I very much dare, Dean Laybourne. After the amount of pain and suffering you've cost me over the last several weeks, the least you can do is give in to my demands."

The larger man was fuming. Nostrils flaring, he hovered over her. "Edison, you have no right to come into my office and make demands." Still non-plussed, Annie shrugged her shoulders and produced several folders, laying them on the desk.

"What we have here, _Mr._ Laybourne is a series of large financial transactions that took place from the period of November 4th, 2012 to December 3rd, 2012. These include wire transfers initiated by you from your personal overseas accounts to accounts located in Germany and Switzerland."

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you wouldn't. But let me tell you about them. These folders," she held up one stack, "tell about transfers from your private account to your Swiss Account, and these folders," Annie held up the other group, "are transfers to the account of one Michelle Slater, a former statistics professor who worked here up until the summer of 2010. Every tracking number, every account number, origins, destinations, I have it all. Any transfers you've done across state lines as well as oversees and international are all in these files. I must say, you have divested yourself well."

Laybourne crossed a leg over his knee. "That's your evidence? Transfers to statistics teacher?"

"Oh but that's not all. I also have the deed of trust to a warehouse in Chicago, Illinois that you own, which was unfortunately destroyed in a fire several weeks ago." She had a third file folder with two pictures, a before and after of the warehouse that she'd destroyed after Jeff's death. "I had to destroy that warehouse. It contained the bodies of about twenty dead mercenaries, a defrocked doctor, and that poor little stats teacher."

"Still flimsy Edison, though admitting the destruction of my property looks nice when I call the police for your breaking and entering." He smiled, chuckling to himself.

"Yes, well, you could do that and I would gladly allow such an arrest; but if that did happen, than I would be hard pressed not to reveal your accessory to the murder of Jeff Winger."

"You're grasping at straws."

"And you funded terrorists. This list is a series of phone calls made to Ms. Slater, with subsequent times up until the fire at the warehouse, where she was located. The transfers you saw before? Those were used in a kidnapping plot against an American citizen. I bring this to a District Attorney, showing that you used funding from outside the US, well... Any DA worth his salt would do wonders with this."

Silence reigned for minutes on end. "You're clever." Laybourne grinned at the woman in his chair. He'd been outmaneuvered only twice in his life. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but this opponent was worthy of his unease.

"I've been called that before." She grinned as well. "I can respect what you've done for Greendale, and that's why I'm giving you a chance." The grin dropped instantly, and her eyes turned green in their transition to amber. "But if you don't follow my instructions, I will destroy you, your reputation, and then gut you like a fish."

"Interesting. Normally, I'd laugh, but I actually believe you. Now, was there anything else I can help you with?"

Annie shook her head. "I just need some signatures, and then we may both retire for the evening." Laybourne took the proffered purple gel pen, and followed her instructions after minutes of reading over the agreements. The language and legalese was perfect, he saw no loop holes or wiggle. She had done her homework, which meshed with intelligent she was reported to be.

"Was there anything else, Ms. Edison?" Her eyes changed back to their cyan.

"Yes, don't cause anymore problems for the study group I'm in. Doing so will have repercussions."

"Understood."

"Good." Gathering the paperwork, she put them in their respective manila folders after sorting everything out. "Vice Dean, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. In the future, I may call on you to provide support in… rather… dubious situations. Would you be interested?"

"You have a lot of nerve." He shook his head and chuckled, that of a low rumble from his chest. "I assume that you're able to afford these favors?"

"Money has never been an issue."

"Then we can do business at your leisure."

She stood from his large chair, rounded the desk and shook his large, meaty hand. Then, she collected the folders, and walked out without another word.

* * *

**_Two Months Later_**

Las Vegas had grown from the simple strip of casinos in the downtown area to a new strip of what people thought were aesthetically pleasing palaces of gambling and family fun. She hadn't been back to the area since the Jubilee was turned into the Montecito, and even that had changed when the new owner demolished the old building for a tower of glass and steel with a large waterfall flowing into an even larger reflecting pool. From an engineering standpoint, she was rather impressed; from a nostalgia standpoint, it sickened her.

She missed the simplicity of the old Sin City. The shows, the food, the backroom poker games with Sinatra and friends, where she'd tried to bluff with an Ace High on a crap hand. Annie smiled, remembering Dean Martin grabbing the chips and the written side bet promise she made. He enjoyed picking out the tattoo.

Frank and Sammy called her "Aces" after that. One of the best memories though was when they invited her up on stage at The Sands; she'd been a hit and offered a recording contract, but begged off due to the risk of exposure.

And it was the story of her life. Happy times then the inevitable sadness of leaving those friends behind.

The floor plan was different from the old hotel, but the concierge service at the Montecito was still impeccable. She'd been shown to a high-roller lounge area while the young, perky woman had gone off to retrieve the information she needed. The casino hostess was a conniving snark who Annie never cared to deal with, and the oppressive woman still tried to provide exclusive free services to the brunette. She politely declined and waited for the young concierge. The tables were tempting, but she wasn't in Vegas for pleasure. She was searching for someone, and she honestly didn't want the distraction; perhaps afterwards, but not this evening.

"Ms. Scarlet?" It wasn't the most original name, Annie turned to the concierge. "This is everything I have on the guy. My boss is going to kill me-"

"And if Cooper tries, tell him he can talk to me about the favor he owes Anna Edwards."

"Thank you _so_ much." The woman looked relieved to hear that. "Is there anything else the Montecito can help you with this evening?"

Edison paused, acting the part of a jet-set high roller. "Yes, I'll need a room for the evening. I know you're pretty book-" She passed the woman several hundred dollar bills. She deserved it.

"That's something I _can_ do. Give me twenty minutes."

"No rush, and thank you again…."

"Piper. Just let me know if you need anything."

"I will, Piper. Thank you." She tapped the screen to the computer pad in her hand and perused the information, once more marveling at the Age of Computers. Annie pulled up the video file and watched the surveillance video of a man playing poker in the high-rollers area. He was alone with a large amount of chips, portraying a blasé attitude by throwing the chips out when he needed to. She fast-forwarded the footage until she pulled up a real-time picture. He was surrounded by several women (incidentally looking like expensive escorts), and the chip pile was much larger.

The area was cordoned off, but the sentry knew who was permitted and let her pass unhindered. Her target had two hangers-on still, who glanced at her with disdain while pressing rather prominent assets against him. The man was disinterested though, continuing his game of blackjack. Annie sat two seats over and counted out twenty one-hundred dollar bills.

"Changing two thousand!" The dealer yelled, depositing the money in his secure bin. Chips distributed, she joined in the game, watching the dealer give cards to the two of them.

Edison was the first to speak. "It's been a while." Her target simply nodded, continuing the game and tapping the table for another card. "We missed you at Christmas."

"Hmph."

"Despite what you think, you have people that miss you." The man turned to look at Annie. She'd borrowed the design of one of Britta's dresses, and man seemed to respond to it. She also remembered it from the Valentine's dance, though Edison had a new, sleeker version. He took a five hundred dollar chip and gave one to each woman, and waved them off.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to keep your promise."

"Well, I made that promise under different circumstances. That agreement is dead."

Annie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Look, I know this is hard-" The man guffawed.

"If you're looking for forgiveness, you're not going to find it here, kiddo."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Oh cut the crap Winger." Jeff slammed the table with his hand, toppling both their piles of chips around the game table. Both dealer and pit boss, as well as several patrons glared at ruckus.

"Sorry, won't happen again." Jeff looked back at the dealer, then tapped his finger on the table and indicated another hand. Annie repeated and the game started again. "So what do you want?"

"I want you to come back to Greendale." He raised an eyebrow to that. "Because the group needs you."

"They have Abed or Troy, let them play leader." He split the two cards, placing chips on the second setup. She took a hit. "Why're you even wasting your time?"

"Because I…ne…lo…I miss you."

"You've had two months to say that to me."

Now she hmphed. "I've been picking up your breadcrumbs since San Diego, it's not like I haven't been trying."

"The great Elisabeta Vintila, having trouble finding me, I should feel honored." The dealer shuffled the card, both playing on automatic, uncaring of the chips they had received or lost. "Don't you have spies in every city? Shouldn't you be able to track me wherever I go?" He looked to the dealer and bobbed his head. "Cash me out, put it on my room account."

"Of course." Jeff kept five of the chips and flipped one towards the dealer. "Thank you sir." There was a ghost of a smirk from Winger as he acknowledged the man. Grabbing his McClelland's, he walked three feet towards the lounge when Annie grabbed his shoulder.

"Spill my scotch, and things are going to get ugly."

"Fuck your scotch. I screwed up, okay? I'd admit I was selfish in wanting you ali-" He turned and grabbed her bicep.

"This _really_ isn't a good place to talk about…that." The tall man snarled as quietly as he could in retort. "Room on the eighty-fifthy. Bring something expensive to drink." Annie shrugged out of his grip as the man walked away.

"Cash me out. Tell Piper to put it in my account." She said to the dealer, also flipping him a chip. She stalked off towards the bar; she was going to need a stiff drink herself before heading upstairs.

* * *

The eighty-fifth floor held some of the best VIP suites in the region. How Jeff had gotten access to one was beyond her, but in his defense he could have an overwhelmingly high amount of luck. He'd used the seed money well. And she didn't mind giving it to him after the incident in Chicago. She just didn't know he'd run away immediately after their return to Greendale. But it made sense, after everything that had happened, Annie reacted similarly so many, many years ago.

Standing at the door she fidgeted for a moment, attempted to knock but pulled her hand before connection with the wood. Edison was scared, because inside was a man she knew she loved. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, but would he want to spend his with her was the question. The woman raised her hand up again to knock, but pulled it back at the last second.

_Why am I doing this to myself?_ She thought. _Coffee, tea, or me time._.

She knocked on the door and waited. Perking her ears up, she heard shuffling around the room, and the door opened. Jeff's tie was undone and shirt was unbuttoned revealing an undershirt. He looked at her for a moment, taking in the red dress and messy brunette hair. Leaning against the doorway, he crossed is arms and lifted an eyebrow.

"So."

"So…."

Détente. _He isn't going to make this easy. _

"Nice dress."

"Thank you. I thought you'd like it."

"I liked it on Britta."

Antagonization. _He's a goddamn fucking master at it._

"What about me?"

"What about you. You couldn't find anything in the cave so you borrowed something Britta wore to fuck with me?" He lowered his eyes, looking at the hemline. "Yeah, that was on the floor one night." Jeff shrugged his shoulders, still barring entry to the suite. "Did you know I actually took her on a date once? No fucking, just an honest to God date. We dressed up, went to Morties, where she promptly complained that the vegan selection wasn't there." The trademark smirk was there. "But in the end, it was just fucking. There wasn't any love, hate, remorse. Just plain fucking."

"So I should just rip this off?"

"It'd be a start." Annie watched his face, searching for anything from the Jeff she loved. But the man in front of her was more closed off than she had ever seen him. And Annie didn't want to indulge the behavior, but it was the only way she'd get through to him.

"Not until I'm inside the room and the door is closed."

He snorted. "Nah, right here's fine."

"Jeff!"

"Alright…" He started closing the door before a foot attached to a creamy leg launched over the threshold to prevent closure of the portal.

Annie looked up and down the hallway, searching for any possible voyeurs; then slowly, hesitantly, she pulled the hem of the dress up her body while Jeff watched, seemingly unimpressed. The red dress fell to the floor, a puddle of scarlet on the marble tile outside the suite.

"You realize I'm still standing naked here."

"You still have clothes on."

"I'm standing here in my panties, Jeff. That's naked enough for me."

He shrugged and walked into the room, the door almost closing behind him, before she put her hand on the heavy wood and stepped into the suite. "What do you want?"

"I want you back."

"I didn't know we were an item." Annie tried to catch his eye, all the while covering her chest with crossed arms. Sure, he'd seen her naked plenty of times recently but she still had a modicum of modesty.

"Why are you making this so hard!"

"Because I have right to!"

"Bull shit!"

"No Annie! I should have died! But here I am, alive and well! Do you realize how much adjustment that takes! I drink blood for god's sakes! That's not natural!"

"I know it takes time Jeff-"

"It takes time? That's all you can say?"

"That was me trying to sympathize with you. I know what it's like!"

"Bull shit! You had a choice!"

She'd steadily moved closer to him through their argument, until she was less than a foot away and looking up at him. "I saved your life!"

"Why!"

"Because I need you!"

"You selfish little bitch!" Slap. Her open palm hit what felt like steel covered in sandpaper. "That's not going to work!" Jeff roared, his pupils turned yellow surrounded by red rings. In return, tears were welling in her blue eyes, and he berated himself for it still having an effect on him. He took the sympathy and stuffed it into a little box with a combination lock and threw it towards the metaphorical space of his mind wear he put all those dark, hidden thoughts with as much force as he could. He wouldn't break.

She was defeated. Hanging her head, naked save for some black satin underwear, she crumpled to the floor heartbroken. "What do you want from me?"

He couldn't look at the vampiress. It hurt to see her vulnerable like this, more so then ever before. His original self before meeting Annie would have scoffed at her then bedded her. The Second Jeff would have consoled her while keeping a respectable distance. Jeff Three, would have bedded her and been emotionally available to the best of his ability.

"I…don't know." New Jeff was unsure of anything anymore. He whispered again, having turned away from the despondent woman to look out the window at the Vegas Strip. "I just don't know."He felt guilty for laying into her like this, but his mind and feelings were so raw and exposed his defense mechanisms from a previous life were overpowering his cooler, logical side.

"I didn't want to lose you." Jeff strained his ears to hear what she'd said. "Not like him."

"What?"

"I can't fight it anymore."

"Fight what, Annie." He turned to her prone form, brunette updo undone and now curtaining and hiding her face while her arms crossed her chest hiding her nudity. "What can't you fight? I've seen you kill indiscriminately. I've seen you slaughter a man with no emotion. What _can't_ you fight anymore?"

"Loneliness." The idea rocked him back on his heels. "I lose everything Jeff. I lose everything in the end and it never stops." She looked up with those big blue eyes. "I couldn't lose you too. So I did the only thing I could think of at the time."

Jeff's head thumped against the glass of the large window looking out on the strip. "You took the choice away Annie. That's why I'm so mad. That's why I ran away." He was silent, and then turned his head to look at her. "Why don't you go grab a robe from the bathroom."

She only nodded at the suggestion, picked herself up, and walked down the padded hallway to the luxurious bathroom of the large suite.

Jeff stared out at the gaudily lit new Las Vegas Strip and sighed to himself, wondering why at all he was doing this to her. There was no need to humiliate her regarding the dress she wore. It wasn't the best dress to wear, in his opinion, but there was no reason to have her strip out of it in the hallway.

The embarrassment was more vengeful and petty, and that was no longer him. Ruminating on that thought, he honestly wasn't sure who or what he was anymore. Gone was the flippant and carefree ex-lawyer; in its place was a moody, angry, and callous individual who was lashing out at the ones he loved.

* * *

_**The Past**_

Jeff pounded on the door to apartment 303 as lightly as he could. He was stronger, and while he was completely pissed off, he was respectful of Abed and Troy enough that he wouldn't cause them too much grief or property damage. But he was going to have words with the younger, gawkish man, and the newly turned vampire was not going to be denied.

It was Troy who opened the door first to see an enraged Jeff Winger. Nostrils flaring, fists clenched, the tall man barged into the small domicile and around the Indiana Jones model. "Where's Abed."

"Jeff! What's going on! I thought you were in Chicago for Christmas."

"Where. Is. He." From under a large blanket fort towards the back of the apartment, popped a blonde whirlwind of anger.

"Winger, you have no right to just come into a private residen-" Jeff's patented decrescendo motion /Force power was immediate, and in a Pavlovian fashion, Britta Perry and Troy Barnes were silent. He sighed heavily, the anger subsiding only slightly. Having even a small amount of control was refreshing after the last month or two.

Centering himself, his two friends looking at him expectantly, he approached the situation in a different fashion. "Okay, I need to speak with Abed. Now." Troy shrugged and pointed towards the door that Jeff had never seen open.

"He's in the Dreamatoriam." The recently turned vampire swiftly walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. "Wait! You can't go in there! He's bu-" Winger opened and closed the door behind him. Troy deflated. "…sy."

He entered a large black room with yellow, taped lines making perfectly squares over the entirety of the space. Abed was standing a ways towards the doors, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. Jeff noted he looked like he was actually enjoying himself and showing a personality that was never seen or heard from during the group's various adventures and antics, the _My Dinner With Andre_ incident notwithstanding.

"Hey." Abed was motionless. "Abed." The young man slightly rocked back and forth, yet was still quiet. "Damn it Abed." Jeff grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook him as weakly as possible, in order avoid pulling the kid's shoulders off.

The boy's eyes snapped open and the smile was gone, his face blank once again. "Jeff?"

The vampire cut to the chase. "How long have you known."

"Known what?" He almost put his fist through the wall. He didn't have time for this. Abed closed the door, having crossed the Dreamatoriam.

"About Annie being a fucking vampire. What the hell do you think I'm talking about!"

"You told me once that something 'wasn't your secret to tell.'" Abed's shoulders shrugged. "I'd hope you would expect the same discretion from me."

"You're not getting off the hook." His eyes flashed red and yellow.

"I've known for at least a year. She swore me to secrecy." Abed stared down Winger, something he'd done on few occasions. "I'm going to be very frank here. This doesn't leave the room."

"I don't think anyone would believe me."

"You're supposed to be dead."

"You're supposed to be my friend. Why?"

"She swore me to secrecy. She used her Anti-Disney Face, and it's a little disconcerting."

Jeff looked towards the ceiling, shaking his head. "That was _real_ nice trail of bread crumbs."

"I did what I did for both of you. I don't understand you two. You circle each other like the classic comedy couple. Now, you're stuck together and you hate her?"

"It's not…what do you mean hate her?"

"You died. She turned you into a vampire. That's cool. But you weren't left with a choice, and that's what hurt you the most. That's always been your fatal flaw. If you have no control over the situation, you become undone. Would you like me to provide examples?"

"No…." Nadir was right, the bastard was always right, Jeff admitted. "Everything's different."

"It is."

"What do I do?"

"Confront her. She's just as hurt as you are."

"I was dead Abed. Dead! If anything, I'm deserving of sympathy."

Abed nodded in response. "What makes this a problem, is that you can only confide in one person who can understand what you're going through emotionally."

"Not you?" The gawkish man shook his head. "Why the hell are you so rational?"

"It's just how I am."

He stared down Abed for several moments. But Abed was known for an infinite amount of patience, and a staring contest would get him nowhere. "For what it's worth," Jeff headed towards the door, "thanks. For everything."

"Where are you going to go?" Winger looked back at Nadir. "I won't tell anyone." He knew Abed wouldn't say a word.

"I hear Vegas is nice this time of year."

"We'll miss you for Christmas."

"I know."

Abed took a deep sigh, and then closed his eyes.

"Hey, by the way, can you take care of the apartment for a while?" Jeff threw his keys, which Abed caught with his eyes shut. Jeff snorted. "From the looks of it, you may need it." Troy and Britta were making some rather naughty noises at the moment, and it wouldn't faze Abed as nothing could. But the offer was accepted by unsaid agreement, and Jeff was happy to do this for his first true friend.

* * *

**_The Present  
_**  
His hearing, enhanced by his recent biological change, perked up as Annie stepped out of the bathroom, barefooted and dressed in a light silk robe, reminiscent of the first night she'd told him of her affliction. While she'd been getting dressed, he'd poured a Merlot for her and the old standby Macallan for himself. He nursed it while she changed; and he started gathering his thoughts, looking inwards to what he could possibly ask or tell her.

She padded up to him, taking a seat at the private bar in the suite and took the glass in her hand. "Nice vintage." Her voice was just above a whisper, her tone as soothing as possible in order to bring his anger down to a more manageable level. "I'm sorry."

He made his way back to the large window overlooking the bright lights of Las Vegas, occasionally sipping on the scotch, savoring the flavor of a whiskey aged forty-five years.

"I saw the Bright Light." He set the tumbler down on an end table and crossed his arms again. "I've never believed in God, and I don't know what I saw. But I saw it, and I felt warm and peaceful. And then I wake up in a sterile white room with no knowledge of where I am or how I got there. All I know is that I wanted that warm glow again.

"It's not that I don't appreciate what you did. It's that, through everything we've been through since Halloween, I haven't had a choice in anything."

"You're a control freak. I'm the same way."

"I never said thank you." Jeff looked back at the now covered woman. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Annie could only shrug. She put her own glass down and hovered to him with a silent tip-toeing. "It needed saying. I did kind of pull you along on a madcap adventure." Both of them grinned, both of them chuckled. "Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know."

"Would you be willing to stay with me for a while?" She looked down through the glass at the lights, as if being the coquettish school girl embarrassed by talking to the prom king. "There's a lot you need to know in order to survive out there."

"Promise me you won't try to handle me." Her face turned determined, and smile was sly. "Not in that way." And now the crestfallen face of a girl who'd lost her kitten.

"I can do that. But promise you'll talk to me about how you feel and what you need. We're in this together now. I need you and you need me." Jeff nodded. "Do you still love me?"

His hand searched a moment and found hers, squeezing it lightly and reassuringly.

The obvious answer was left unsaid as they looked out towards city below.

* * *

**Authors Notes**:

- I came up with Laybourne being the financier months before Blanket Fort 2.0. Can I call it or what.

- Screwed up with the names of the McClellands and Macallan. Oops. As always, pardon the hidden typos.

- Another show I used to watch, on NBC, was _Las Vegas_. This obviously takes place after Season 5.

- That's all. Thanks for reading. It's been fun writing it.


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